


A Red Pen

by fandom_life_forever



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski are the Same Age, Discussion of Abortion, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Panic Attacks, Pregnant Stiles, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-06-30 16:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15755328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_life_forever/pseuds/fandom_life_forever
Summary: Derek and Stiles are always told they are the lucky ones. They found each other when they were three years old and have been together ever since. Not all mates are that lucky. Some have to wait years, but for Derek and Stiles, life is good. They have each other, a great circle of friends and loving families. What could be better?But life seems to have other plans for them, and an unexpected detour shatters both of their worlds all in one fell swoop.And it all starts with a pen.





	1. Chemistry, Kisses, Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first attempt at mpreg, so I hope it's okay. I'm not really sure how to approach it but I'm going to try my best. But if mpreg isn't your thing, then I suggest you skip this piece of work. Also, I don't know much about A/B/O, so I'm using what I do know and then my artistic license with the rest. I hope it's not too bad as I'm not really planning on going in too deep into those themes, but we'll see where this fic goes. 
> 
> By the way, I will be including panic attacks, underage sex, abortion talks in this fic, along with other possibly triggering topics, so if those make you uncomfortable then I don't believe this fic is for you. And if you think I've gotten something wrong, then do feel free to send me a message and I can alter things. Your feedback is always important to me. But at the end of the day, I just hope you enjoy this work because I'm excited about it and I want you all to be excited too. 
> 
> Thank you! <3

Stiles seriously considers quitting school and putting in his application for that McDonald's job when he opens the practise Chemistry paper, and realises he barely knows half of what's being questioned. Harris had also made it clear it was to be done by tomorrow. Asshole. He hates all his students, Stiles most of all, so he probably increased the difficulty to a level no-one could handle just to screw with them. He hadn't even taught half of the material on the paper. How he got qualified as a teacher, Stiles will never understand. 

A pen being thrown at the back of his head draws Stiles away from imagining Harris being hanged, drawn and quartered. "Hey!" he exclaims, rubbing the back of his head, even though there isn't any real pain there. He swings his head round to glare at his boyfriend, who is sitting pretty over at Stiles' desk. "What's your problem, oh beloved asshole?" 

"I'm trying to work and your foul chemosignals are putting me off, so please stop," Derek pleads distractedly, still concentrating on the trig problem in front of him. 

"You know, if you resort to physical violence every time you don't like how I smell, we're not going to last very long," Stiles tells him with a smirk, turning around to fully face Derek. 

"Stiles, we've been using violence against each other since we were six when you stole my juice box." Derek finishes the problem and gives his mate a sideways smile. 

"I told you, I couldn't find mine and I was thirsty. I was only going to take a sip. But no, you thought I was stealing it, and instead, decided to tackle me. Some mate you are."

"Yep. I know. I suck. Better call the authorities now and start cancelling all of this," Derek advises him with a wry grin, spinning the chair to face Stiles. 

"Oh, I plan to," Stiles purrs, getting up and slowly approaching his mate until he's towering above him. Derek looks up at him with lust-filled eyes. "I plan on calling the authorities, giving them a long spiel about how terrible my mate is, how deeply wrong we are for each other, how we should cancel our mating ceremony right now and end all this heartache." Stiles drops himself down on Derek's waiting lap, who immediately encircles his arms around the human until his hands are resting on his ass, already pulling him in to make their crotches graze. Stiles shudders at the beautiful friction. 

"So why don't you?" Derek asks a little breathlessly as their hips movements become more frantic. "The phone's right over there." Derek's fingers, one's that had been smoothly running up and down his back, now slip under the hem of t-shirt to map the curves of his back muscles. Derek knows Stiles likes this, likes it when Derek dips into those hollows that only he is aware of. A secret only the two of them know. 

"You know why, you dick. And by the way, did you have to throw my favourite red pen at me?" Derek's eyes sparkle mischievously, and Stiles can't take it anymore. He swoops down and crushes his lips to Derek's, diving in with his tongue to taste his mate as much as possible, searching all corners.

"I love you too," Derek whispers when he has a second to breathe, "and of course I did, that pen is special, gotta use it for occasions like these." Stiles laughs and then the two boys are kissing like their lives depend on it. Stiles scratches his way up Derek's face to tug at the ends of his soft hair, finding the right strands to make Derek groan into his mouth. Meanwhile, Derek's wandering hands grow more vicious and start attacking the jeans that cover Stiles' swollen erection. The werewolf's fingers trace the outline like it is precious.

"God Stiles, the things you do to me," Derek says while reaching to shrug off Stiles' shirt and his own. Stiles nearly drools at the sight of Derek's washboard abs and peaked nipples. He's like a freaking Greek God. Stiles remembers all the times he's watched Derek in the gym, muscles popping under all the weight and skin stained with sweat. Stiles nearly blows a load every time he goes and watches.

Derek finally manages to unbutton his boyfriend's jeans and get a warm hand on his weeping cock. He swipes his thumb over the bubbling slit, gathering all the liquid before bringing it to his mouth to taste. Stiles watches in avid fascination, biting down on his lower lip until he feels blood bloom.

Stiles rips Derek's pants open, desperate to see that uncut, velvety flesh. As Derek's erect cock hits the cool air, he lets out a long hiss, his head falling back and exposing his neck. Stiles takes the opportunity. He attacks. Licking, sucking and biting from Derek's collarbone up to the silk skin hiding behind Derek's ear. He loves marking Derek, loves trying to fight biology and leave part of himself on his mate's body, proving that Derek is his.

As much as Derek enjoys Stiles' form of attack, he decides it's time for the main event and pulls Stiles' attention back to both of their aching dicks, which are continually sliding against each other in the best way. Stiles fumbles for the lube in the desk drawer, and as swiftly as possible, wraps his lubed hand around both of their erections. They both moan, long and loud, and in the back of his mind, Stiles thanks God that his dad is working right now. Dismissing any thoughts of his dad, Stiles moves his hand up and down, knowing the rhythm they both like, twisting in just the right way, using his fingers push back the head to reveal the pink tip of his boyfriend's cock. 

It's an amazing thing, practically magic. 

Stiles looks up from where he rests his head on Derek's warm shoulder as he hears a chuckle break through the choked sounds of both boys. Stiles realises he had said that out loud. He blushes, but moves on quickly to reclaim Derek's wet mouth as he feels his orgasm building at the base of his spine. The fire continues to grow as they lose control of their mouths, alternating between sloppy kisses and heavy pants because their bodies are just overwhelmed with emotions, a thousand different wants wracking their minds. 

The fire explodes. Stiles comes all over his fist, with Derek following soon after, the scent of sex filling the room and a content feeling settling in his bones. Stiles slumps into his boyfriend, all the energy drained from his body. Derek folds his arms around him and holds him for a time. But eventually, the drying come becomes too uncomfortable to ignore and Stiles gets up to fetch a wet towel. 

Once they're wiped down, they go to lie down in Stiles' bed, hands entwined. His Chemistry paper still lays at the bottom of the bed, but they let everything fall away to relax with each other for a while. Stiles already knows that Derek will help him with the paper because he is a Chem whiz, so he isn't too worried. 

Instead, Stiles' brain switches off and only comes back on when Derek's fingers begin running through his hair. Stiles opens his eyes to see Derek smiling down at him. "You're gorgeous," Derek states as if it's a matter-of-fact. 

Stiles knows better than to protest (it would most likely end with the weirdest kind of argument and Derek screaming that Stiles was closest thing to an angel), so he just basks in the knowledge that this guy loves him, and flushes red.

Looking at Derek right then, Stiles makes a split-second decision. 

He says, "You know my heat is next week," he pauses, trying to pick his words carefully, "and I know we agreed we would wait until after our mating ceremony, to please our parents, but Derek, I don't want to wait. I want to spend my heat with you. I want to be with you in every way. So, what do you think?"

Derek looks thoughtful, but guarded, as he always does when his parents are brought into the equation. It kind of reminds Stiles of the expression Derek used to wear as a kid when he met new people, including when he met Stiles. Stiles and Derek have been best friends since they were three and been mates for just as long. They met at the park a sunny day in July when some douchey kid had pushed him off the swings so he could take it. Derek, like the hero he is, toddled over and punched the other kid, growling, "That's my mate! You don't touch my mate!" From that moment, they had been inseparable. Kindergarten, elementary, middle and high school their relationship continued to develop, and while there were other friends and work and family that got in the way, their bond always remained the strongest. 

"My mother wouldn't like it," Derek finally says, still twirling Stiles' hair between his fingers. Derek's mother is a good woman, a kind woman, would do anything for her pack, but she has certain traditional views on werewolf customs, and that means no spending heats together, no mating bite and no mating bond until they are eighteen and have graduated. Both Stiles and Derek know she has a point, so they have always elected to respect her wishes, but as they get older, it grows harder to keep that promise. 

"I know. My dad wouldn't either." Stiles' dad is much the same as Talia, and having an omega son just means he is more protective of Stiles and likes to monitor what he does in his spare time. "But my eighteenth birthday isn't that far away -" 

"Stiles, your birthday was less than a month ago, and how do I know that? Oh yeah, because mine was on the same day," Derek interrupts with a raised brow. 

"But it's our life Derek, if you want this and I want this, then why should we let anyone else weigh on this decision that should only ever include the two people that matter most? Me and you," Stiles argues, trying his best not to get too passionate because it's Derek choice to say yes or no. But seeing the expression on Derek's face, he loses all steam. "Hey, I'm sorry, you're right, we've agreed to this since we were twelve, let's just stick to the plan."

"No, no, don't interrupt my face as a rejection. I'm just thinking. It's a big change. There are lots of pros and cons to this," Derek tells him, unwinding their hands so he can pick up Stiles and drape him over his chest like a human blanket. It's one of their favourite cuddle positions. Stiles likes that he can stick his nose in Derek's neck and breathe in that intoxicating scent of mate.

"I know. But it's just how I feel. So, will you think about it?" Stiles asks, drawing his fingers along the trail of Derek's lips. Derek kisses them as they go by. "Anyway, this could just be a phase. I might change my mind tomorrow. You know how changeable I am."

"Okay, well why don't we wait until the end of the week? Make sure this is a thing we want? There's still time before your heat," Derek suggests. Stiles nods in agreement. "Right, now you'd better finish your paper. Harris already hates your guts, don't give him a reason to fail you." 

The happy mood he is enjoying disappears quite quickly as he starts thinking about the periodic table. "Only if you agree to help me," barters Stiles. 

Derek rolls his eyes but gets up to help him nevertheless. Stiles spends the night finishing the paper, Derek offering helpful insight and quizzing him indiscriminately. By the time three in the morning hits, Stiles thinks he'll survive another day in Chemistry, but who knows? Maybe Harris will just fail him for walking through the door. Derek had already sent a message to his parents saying he would stay the night, so after they are all done, they lie in the bed again.

Stiles stares out of the window for a while, watching the stars blink, open and closed, light and dark. It's almost hypnotic and begins to lull Stiles asleep, but before he can, Derek's voice breaks through the darkness.

"I can't wait to be mated to you." 

Stiles flips over and smiles. He knows Derek can see it even if Stiles can't see him.

"I can't wait either." Stiles moves forward, already believing that Derek will find his lips in the dark. He does and they join in a brief but loving kiss.

It has all the makings of their first kiss.

They had been having sleepovers since they were six after finding they often preferred sleeping together rather than being alone. But one night when they were fourteen, after a day at school when all Jackson could talk about was that Lydia had let him kiss her, Stiles had asked Derek what he thought about kissing. To which Derek had replied, he hadn't really thought about it, though a year later Stiles found out that that had been a lie and it was all he'd been thinking about for the past few months. Stiles had proposed they try it, just to shut Jackson up he'd added quickly in case Derek didn't want to. But Derek readily agreed. They lay next to each other, waiting for the other to make the first move, but eventually, Stiles got impatient and chose to inch closer. It was a quick, dry press of their lips, but it felt like fireworks to Stiles. It was everything he imagined a kiss should be. Derek had obviously felt the same as he immediately plunged back into his mate to taste his lips once again. They kissed through the night, until their lips were bright red and swollen to the point it was almost painful. They didn't care. They went into school the next day exhausted but happy, kissing all the time, not even stopping when their friends made vomit noises around them.

Stiles smiles at the memory. That's what Stiles falls asleep thinking about, with Derek's body keeping him warm, all as night continues to grow darker and the wolves come out to play.


	2. School, Sunshine, Spot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! Hope you guys enjoy! Sorry it took a while but I'm trying my best. I'm due to start university again soon so I don't have a firm schedule for when I'm going to post, so please be patient with me. I will finish. 
> 
> Also, sorry that not a lot happens in this chapter. I'm just establishing all the characters and relationships as much as I can before diving in. The next chapter will be the heat chapter. I'm looking forward to writing it. 
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Stiles blinks awake, early morning sunshine beaming on his face. Not a second later, the door creaks open and his dad’s head pokes through. His eyes look slightly shrunken and lined deeply, informing Stiles that his dad had a late night yesterday, but nonetheless his father is a happy man and Stiles knows that few late nights mean nothing as soon as they exchange smiles at each other.

“Morning, kiddo, gotta get up. Senior year doesn’t pause just cause you want to sleep in,” his dad says with a rueful grin.

“If only Santa had granted those time-stopping abilities I had asked for at Christmas,” Stiles replies wistfully. His dad rolls his eyes fondly and leaves him to get ready. Yawning widely, Stiles pulls on some clothes, his typical outfit of faded jeans, graphic t-shirt and plaid overshirt. Lydia often remarked that if he forgot to shower for a few days and didn’t brush his hair, he could pass as a homeless person. But to Lydia, anyone who falls below her definition of perfection can be categorised in some shape or form similar to homelessness. She is a hard lady to please, but Jackson seems to manage just fine. Maybe Jackson is stronger than Stiles gives him credit for, Stiles thinks. Yet, he still likes to imagine Lydia using Jackson as a footstool whenever he pisses her off.

Stiles hops down the stairs, landing with a solid thud, and strolling into the kitchen to make some toast. His dad is already gnawing his way through a couple of pieces, wholemeal thank you very much, so Stiles sits across from him and slathers some very unhealthy lashing of chocolate spread on his bread right as his dad watches with a fearsome glare.

“How come you get to drown yourself in cholesterol and I can’t, huh?” his dad demands, looking ready to pounce over the table and steal Stiles’ food. 

“Because I don’t have a note from the doctor and a meddling son who doesn’t know when to stop,” Stiles tells him, lips twitching to try to rise into a grin. 

His dad is ready to argue his case until the sun explodes, but thankfully, his phone rings and the Sheriff gets inevitably pulled back to the station. He places a kiss on his son’s forehead and speeds away while Stiles grabs his bag and makes a cup of coffee to take with him to school. Pouring the last of it in the Texas takeaway cup (the twentieth one collected/stolen by Allison – she and Stiles have a thing about having a mug or cup from every state, so when Ally’s parents drag her away on trips around America for Mr. Argent’s job, she picks up a cup from whatever crappy diner is closest – tradition at its best), Stiles picks up his keys and jumps in his jeep.

His mom left it to him in her will so whenever he drives it, it feels like she’s still here, like a piece of her is still alive, which is why he refuses to drive anything else. This is in spite of the fact that the passenger side door doesn’t close without excessive force, a clicking sound is made whenever he uses the brakes, and there is a lingering burning smell that Stiles can’t for the life of him figure out its origin. Derek had offered a million times to drive him as his parents had bought him a savvy new Camaro after he passed his driving test, probably just worried about Stiles’ safety, but Stiles had warned him that if he asked one more time, he would be obligated to kick his mate in the balls. Hard. 

Stiles arrives with more than a few minutes to spare before the first bell, so he meanders through the entranceway and down the hall to his locker. He riffles through his books there, fingers enjoying flicking through the pages as it gives him something to do. Stiles waits, listening to all the other students file past him and the locker doors slam and broken pieces of dialogue, he waits and he waits.

Then it happens.

Large hands grip his sides, picking him up and spinning him around. Even though he knew it was going to happen, Stiles still squeals, but its full of delight. Once he is dropped back to earth, Stiles pounces on Derek, planting a firm kiss on his lips and getting lost in the heady feeling it creates. Derek kisses him back with fierce enthusiasm.

“Mmm,” Stiles hums quietly, “Hi there.” 

“Hello,” Derek answers. He kisses Stiles again, lingering for longer than he should, but they are forced apart by Jackson sliding next to them, who requests, not-so-nicely, for them to put their dicks back in their pants. Stiles sighs, head falling onto Derek’s shoulder. In moments like these, Stiles really questions their inclusion of Jackson in the group. 

Pulling his head up, Stiles turns to Jackson, “I’ll put my dick wherever I please, douchebag. My dick, my rules.” The omega sticks his tongue out at the beta. Jackson looks scandalised. Derek stands back and enjoys the forthcoming show. 

Unfortunately, or fortunately, Scott, as the eternal peacemaker, appears and diffuses the situation with an easy smile and some new conversation, “Hey guys, Coach just told me that practise is cancelled today, something about goddamn doctors’ appointments and goddamn diabetes, so I was thinking we could all hang out at The Spot tonight. Sound like a plan?” 

The Spot was a hidden clearing in the Preserve that Scott and Stiles had found as kids and quickly established as their own. It was the place they all went when they needed time to themselves or time with each other. As they got older and their friendship group expanded, The Spot sort of devolved and they’d often go there to relax and just get drunk off their asses.

The week hadn’t exactly been a pleasant one, with Harris being the worst teacher in history and not accepting Stiles’ Chemistry paper because he had forgot to sign his name at the top, so he was given a new one and had to redo it during afterschool detention. And there was the added stress of debating whether or not to spend his heat with Derek. Sometimes Stiles would catch Derek staring at him, and unlike the past fourteen years of his life, Stiles couldn’t decipher what it meant. Overall, the week had been a little stressful and with the decision supposed to be made by tomorrow, Stiles is in desperate need of a stiff drink. 

All the boys agree readily, and as the second bell rings, Derek gives Stiles a parting kiss, and Stiles goes off with Scott to History. Mr. Yukimura stands at the front and announces they are to begin their projects on the First World War, each being given a different aspect to write about. For Stiles and Scott, they were to begin research on the Battle of the Somme. But he can’t concentrate on the work, which annoys Scott greatly as he has to deal with Stiles shaking his leg and muttering under his breath relentlessly. 

Halfway through scrolling through an article online, Scott finally turns and snaps, “Okay, dude, what the hell is wrong with you today? In fact, all week?” 

Stiles blinks, stunned. “Um, it’s nothing, I just have a lot on my mind.” Stiles waves his hand flippantly, scooting closer so he can pretend-focus on the words on the computer.

“Okay, nuh-huh, I’ve known you since middle school, you’re my best friend, I know when you’re acting strange. Not to mention, Derek’s been twitchy all week as well. Did something happen?”

Stiles hesitates, teeth gnawing at his lip. Would telling Scott make things any better, or could it make things drastically worse? Stiles always values Scott’s opinion, but asking your best friend how they feel about you bumping uglies with your boyfriend during a heat haze? Step too far, perhaps? However, Scott does like to regal Stiles with stories about his sexual escapades with Allison, so could it be justice? Stiles takes the plunge.

As quickly as possible, Stiles spits out, “IwanttospendmyheatwithDerek.” Scott looks confused, so the omega takes pity on him and slowly repeats, “I want to spend my heat with Derek.”

Scott’s face drops. “You want to - WHAT!” Scott yells the last word and Stiles rushes to cover his friend’s mouth with his hand. Mr Yukimura glares at the two boys, the only warning they’ll receive before detentions are issued. “But I thought - Derek’s parents and your dad – ” 

“Will you keep your voice down, you idiot! Jesus, if you were any louder my eardrums would be bleeding,” Stiles whispers harshly, already noting that a majority of the class had heard the exchange and are now staring at them. They let the class settle before continuing the talk. “Look, I talked to Derek, we said we would make a decision by the end of the week whether or not to go through with it. We thought maybe we shouldn’t let our parents dictate our choices and we should do this for ourselves. That’s why I’ve been off, why Derek’s been twitchy, it’s a big thing.” 

Scott nods along, putting on his thinking face. He looks like a puppy, trying to interpret what their owner’s face means, little head dipping from side to side. “Okay, well, it is a big turnaround. I mean, all you’ve ever said – what you’ve both said, is that you’d wait until you were eighteen, until the mating ceremony because that’s what your parents wanted. I thought you both liked it that way.”

Everything Scott’s saying is correct, _was_ correct, at one point, but the more Stiles thinks about it, the more he’s sure he wants this. He wants to be with his mate in every possible way, on his terms. He’s sick of things being told to him without his input, much like when he thinks about his own biology.

He sometimes hates being an omega, and he knows that everyone believes it to be such a special thing, that he has an important role in society, but being the world’s baby making factory isn’t exactly what Stiles wants to be remembered for. He does have plans after high school. He wants to go university. He wants to join the police academy. He wants to be a cop like his dad, despite the stigma that omegas are weaker and shouldn’t be allowed on the force. Fucking stereotypical bastards.

“I did like it that way,” Stiles admits carefully. “Things have changed. For me at least. And I want this, Scott. I really want this.”

Scott smiles softly. “I get it. I really do. My first time with Allison was amazing. We wanted to jump right in as soon as we met, but the stakes weren’t as high for us. Our parents didn’t mind, we had their blessing, and neither of us can get pregnant,” Scott says the last words cautiously, obviously unsure of how Stiles would react. Allison and Scott are both betas, meaning they aren’t able to carry children as only omegas can do that, but there are plenty of options for them when the time is right. But it doesn’t matter because they are one of the best couples and pair of mates Stiles knows, and not being able to carry children, definitely does not factor in to how much they love each other, which is sickening on occasion (but that’s how Scott and Alli like to describe Stiles and Derek, so karma?).

“Trust me, I’ve thought about all of this. I know how pissed our parents are going to be and believe me when I say that we will be taking every precaution necessary to prevent stuff like babies, but this is something I want. And something I think Derek wants. But, who knows, maybe he’ll say no, and we can act like this conversation never happened.” Stiles shrugs, clicking onto another page and finding some rather gory stuff to read about.

Scott can tell that Stiles is done talking about this, so they move on and keep researching until the bell rings and they split up to go to their next class.

Stiles sits next to Lydia in AP Math, smiling clumsily at her. “Hey beautiful, how’s your day going?”

“Fine, Jackson’s been pissing me off all day though, so I’ve elected to take a vow of silence whenever he’s in my presence,” Lydia replies rather haughtily, flipping her strawberry-blonde locks over her shoulder.

“Mmm, I totally understand. In fact, would you mind if I did the same thing? Or better yet, we figure out some magical way to cancel Jackson’s speech altogether? On days like today, his voice grates on my very soul.” Lydia laughs, and Stiles can’t help but join her. They quieten down when Mrs. Keane walks in the room and instructs them to open their textbooks.

The days moves forward at an uneven pace, until lunch eventually arrives, and Stiles can see the one person he’s been missing all day. He scans the lunch hall, his gaze swiftly landing on his mate, who looks up from where he is chatting with Isaac, Boyd and Erica at their table to grin at him. Stiles rushes forward and practically jumps into Derek’s arms, kissing him fiercely, as if they hadn’t see each other in decades.

“Hey baby,” Stiles says with a smooth drawl. He runs his hands through Derek’s hair.

Before Derek can answer back, Erica begins fake throwing up, causing both of them to swing their heads around to shoot icy stares at her. She preens under their eyes, not giving a fuck, but happy now that they had stopped their vomit-worthy display of affection. Stiles turns back to his boyfriend and smacks a huge, wet kiss on his lips to screw with her. Once they are both satisfied, they pull apart and sit down next to each other on Isaac’s side of the table.

Stiles asks if the others are going to join them at The Spot later today. They all say yes but suggest it should be later, because Boyd is working until nine and Erica has a meeting with the guidance counsellor about extra credit after school. The next day is the weekend so staying out late shouldn’t be too much of a problem. When the others plonk down next to them, they make plans to meet at The Spot at ten, Jackson promising to bring a large selection of alcohol from his parent’s stash, and for that Stiles has to high-five him, despite his earlier hopes for his eternal silence. Lydia says she’ll pitch in as well. Her mom keeps a lot of expensive wines hidden in their cellar.

They only stop talking once the bell rings. Derek kisses Stiles’ cheek then leaves for English, while Stiles leaves with Allison to the library to spend their free period studying. Stiles finds more articles about the Somme, looking through first hand accounts and writing a few down on a word document.

Some point later, Allison leans over and whispers, “You should go for it.”

Startled, Stiles gapes at her, mouth opening and closing as he can’t figure out how to respond.

“Sorry, I know this seems like an imposition, it’s a completely private thing, but you know Scott can never keep a secret from me and he was worried about you. And I think – no, I know – you and Derek are amazing together and if you both want this, why not go for it?” Allison says with a small smile, the skin around her hazel eyes crinkling sweetly.

Stiles finds his words, “Okay, um, first of all, I’m going to strangle your mate for ever discussing this with you because it was hard enough with him, I thought it was heavily implied that it was extremely private. Secondly, thanks for your opinion, but I honestly don’t even know what to think right now.” 

Allison sees Stiles is becoming a little unhinged, so she shuffles forward and hugs him. “Hey, it’s okay. Really, you know I’ll help you kick Scott’s ass if you’d like. He probably deserves a good ass-whooping. But the point is, the whole Derek thing, if you both feel like this is what you want, then go for it. Let me tell you, there is nothing like spending your first time with your mate.”

As a beta, both Allison and Scott do go into heats, not as intense as omegas or alphas like Stiles and Derek, but intense all the same. The only difference is, they can’t get pregnant. Anyone can be mates, any combination of alpha, beta or omega, and an alpha or a beta can impregnate an omega, that part isn’t so specific, it just has to be an omega to carry the offspring. Because of course it fucking does, that’s just how Stiles’ life has to be.

But he thinks about Derek, how Derek makes him feel, and every concern he has about his own biology goes away. He becomes happy, knowing he has the perfect mate and he’s lucky to have found him so early in life. Not all are that lucky.

“Thanks Alli,” Stiles says, not really wanting to discuss this anymore and returns to his work. The beautiful beta squeezes his shoulder and leaves him to it. He tries his best to focus, but the words blur on the page and it takes ten long minutes before he can actually stumble through a sentence. If he only he knew what to do. 

When the final bell rings, Stiles finds Derek waiting by their cars. Stiles’ doubts really do disappear when Derek smiles at him. It’s like his smile stretches the whole length of his face, all white teeth gleaming and sunny disposition. The world could not have produced anything more stunning. They greet each other with a kiss, both sets of hands cupping the other’s face, keeping them close, hairbreadth distance.

“Come back with me?” Derek asks. “We can study until we go out, and maybe…” Derek pauses, “we can have that talk.” 

Stiles nods, not particularly trusting himself to speak. It’s kind of ridiculous. He was the one who brought this up, but that doesn’t mean he can’t have second thoughts. He’s about to open the door when he spies Scott ambling towards his bike, Allison in tow. He yells to Derek that he’ll be back in a minute, before darting off to stand right in front of Scott, who smiles in greeting. Stiles doesn’t say anything, just socks him one, right in the nose.

Scott cries out, “Dude, what the hell?” His hands fly to his face to cover his sore nose. The big baby, its not bleeding or even red. Stupid werewolf healing powers.

“That’s what you deserve, you dick, after what you told Allison.” Stiles turns his eyes to Allison, who is about one second from bursting out laughing. “Loose lips sink ships, puppy face. Keep that in mind.”

Scott looks dejected, but more sorrowful than anything. “I’m sorry, dude. You know I can’t keep a secret, especially not from Alli. She’s like a secret-knowing machine. She knew I knew about something the moment she saw me. But it was wrong, and I shouldn’t have told. You trusted me. I really am sorry, dude.”

“I know you are, man. Just don’t do it again. I’ve got more where that came from,” Stiles jokes, holding his hands up in fighting stance. Scott rolls his eyes at him. They wave each other goodbye, while Allison giggles behind her hand.

Stiles re-joins Derek by the cars, and seeing the expression on his mate’s face, he demands, “What?”

Derek grins, and much like Allison, seems about two seconds from falling to the ground holding his stomach as laughter wracks through him. “Nothing, absolutely nothing. I just love you. More than anything."

Stiles blushes and opens the door to his car so he can follow Derek to his house. The jeep moseys through the forest roads, not as elegantly as the Camaro, but manages to make it through and park outside the frankly massive Hale house. It still staggers Stiles whenever he arrives here, three huge floors plus an attic and basement, endless expanse of grounds (they practically own the entire Preserve) and a giant garage off to the side full of expensive cars for each of the Hale family members. It was the kind of place you read about in magazines, filled with jealousy and loathing because it’s something you cannot possess.

After parking, Derek joins their hands and they enter the house, footsteps clacking on the porch as they go. Talia, Laura and Derek’s little cousin, Mason, who has been visiting with his side of the family for the week, are in the kitchen eating some newly baked cookies from what Stiles can smell.

Each Hale turns to them and smiles, Mason even has some cookie dough smudged on his cheek.

“Hey boys! How was school?” Talia greets them.

“It was fine,” Derek replies, moving forward to snatch a couple of cookies from the tray, handing one to Stiles, who ate it with extreme gusto. “What have you guys been doing all day?”

The two boys sit at the table, Stiles fist-bumps Mason to say hi. “Nothing much, went shopping and then made some cookies. Yvonne and Eliot are out at the cinema, Cora’s at field hockey practise. I still have a paper to write though, so I’d better get to it. Enjoy your cookies, boys,” says Laura, smacking the back of Derek’s head as she swishes by. Derek gives a warning growl, to which she just cackles. Laura is in her final year of college, so she has a lot of work to do. She wants to become a teacher, so she’s also working on getting a teaching assistant role at a school near her college in Berkeley.

Talia scoffs at her two children, sharing a look with Stiles as if to say, _“Can you believe we choose to be around these idiots?”_. Stiles smirks back at her.

After conversing for a bit, Derek hauls Stiles up the stairs and into his bedroom. Stiles is about to ask what homework Derek has to do, when there is a sudden pressure on his mouth, and realising its Derek lips, Stiles melts into him. He throws his arms around Derek’s neck, deepening the kiss with the plunge of his tongue in Derek’s mouth. Derek rises to the challenge, his own warm tongue slipping and curling around Stiles’. Stiles moans. Loudly. Thank God the Hales splashed on soundproofing. Stiles couldn’t imagine the mortification of facing Derek’s parents after one of their more heated make-out sessions. They try to keep going, but oxygen is important for some reason or another, so they break apart.

“That was nice,” Stiles comments softly.

“Just nice?” Derek persists.

“Mmm, yeah, just nice. I’ve had better.” Stiles winks at his boyfriend, then moves to sit on Derek’s bed, riffling around in his schoolbag for his books.

“Really? Guess I’ll just have to up my game.” Derek sits on the bed next to Stiles, fingers carding through his hair to encourage the omega to bend his neck to the side. Stiles does and Derek plants small kisses on his skin, occasionally sucking, leaving Stiles more than a little breathless. But Stiles knows both he and Derek have things to talk about and homework to do, so he gently detaches Derek from his neck and faces him.

“Maybe we should talk before we do anything else?” Stiles proposes. He tries to seems casual, but he knows Derek can sense the worry vibrating under his skin.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Derek concurs, pulling back until there is quite a large gap between them.

“Um, so do you…um…have an answer for what we discussed?” Stiles keeps his eyes on Derek, no matter how difficult it is to do so.

“Well, I’ve thought about it constantly, weighed up everything, and I – “ Stiles waits with baited breath. He can’t gouge anything from Derek’s face. “And I – I think we should do it,” he says in a burst, but it’s all Stiles needs to jump forward and smother Derek with his body.

Stiles starts laughing, hugging Derek as close as possible. He can’t believe he said yes. Yes! He said yes. Even though Stiles was afraid of saying yes, of going through with this, Derek’s yes means everything to him, all his fears dissipating, blowing away like paper in the wind.

Derek flips them so he’s on top, grinning down at Stiles. “So, I’m guessing your answer is a yes as well?”

“My answer was a yes from the moment I met you,” Stiles tells him, intense affection coursing through his body. Derek dips down and kisses him. It is one of the best kisses they have ever shared.

They huddle together for the next hour, basking in afterglow of their decision. When they finally do decide to do their work, it takes them ten minutes to physically disentangle themselves. Stiles eyes begin to strain staring at the pages of his Chemistry textbook, so when Talia calls up to them saying she’s ordering a pizza, Stiles is more than grateful.

He is in the middle of scarfing down his third slice when Derek’s dad, Andrew, comes home from work, broad smile on his kind face. He greets us all before stealing some slices for himself before retreating to his study. He normally spends an hour finishing up his work before coming back and using the rest of the evening to enjoy being with the pack, and considering his sister and her family were visiting, it felt even more special.

By the time the clock hits ten, Stiles is more than ready to do some drinking. With rushed goodbyes to the pack, who are all sitting in the den watching The Incredibles, they head out into the night, not bothering to take the car as The Spot isn’t too far away from the house.

Stiles is elated, practically bouncing from step to step. Derek just shakes his head at him, but stops to kiss him every few seconds, like he just can’t help himself. All the others are already there when they arrive, and all are fairly drunk too. Stiles and Derek have some serious catching up to do.

As soon as Lydia spots them, they are handed two tequila shots each, Derek’s laced with wolfsbane. Drinking games quickly ensure, with Stiles forced to lick vodka off Allison’s stomach, Boyd and Isaac having to take off two items of clothing leaving them both only in their boxer briefs and Lydia having to chug a disgusting mixture of every type of alcohol and mixer that had been brought tonight. It keeps going like that, endless drinking until the alcohol runs out.

By the time the sun begins to rise, they have all passed drunkenness to a whole new stage of intoxicated. It feels awesome. Stiles is lying on his back, head resting on Erica’s legs while she plays with his hair, and Jackson lays on his. They all watch as Allison and Lydia exchange giggling conversation, Scott and Derek seem to be practising fighting for some reason, but both are so out of their minds a majority of their hits go swinging off to the side. Isaac is trying to convince Boyd it is a good idea to climb a tree right now. Boyd looks dubious, but not repelled by the idea. Stiles bets Jackson ten bucks Boyd will do it. Isaac can be a manipulative bastard when he wants to. It’s the cute baby face he’s got.

Stiles wins the bet and laughs his ass off when Boyd slips and falls on his face when a branch breaks from under his foot. He’s unhurt, but his pride is wounded, and he stalks off to go sit by himself. Erica takes pity on him and gets up to provide comfort.

Derek reappears an indiscriminate amount of time later. Jackson is gone, making out with Lydia behind a tree. They aren’t mates, but they like each other a lot and are very content to spend their days together until they find the one for each of them.

Derek sinks down next to him and tugs Stiles into his lap. They don’t say anything, they don’t need to. They watch their friends be happy, alcohol warm in their veins as the sun rises and washes them in a red glow.


	3. Heat, Heart, Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry about the wait, but now that I'm back at university, things are a bit busy, but I promise I will finish. 
> 
> Basically, this entire chapter is sex. If you don't like that, I suggest you skip it. And I do apologise for it, because I'm not the greatest at writing smut, but I tried my best, so I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Heat week has never been a favourite for Stiles.

It is mostly because he has had to spend it alone, which meant a week rubbing his dick raw and five fingers constantly up his ass. Not pleasant. Well, it’s not pleasant when you are alone. With Derek though…

Stiles’ heats began when he was fourteen, so he’s devoted one week every three months since the first day making sounds that belong in a porn video. It’s almost impressive how many times you can orgasm when you are really trying. By the end of the week, Stiles’ room is usually stained with all sorts of bodily fluids, come and sweat and sometimes even blood when he gets too vicious about things. And not just all over his bed, up his walls, under his bed, and somehow even in the closet. That had been during one of his more intense heats. He barely remembers any of it. Hence why when he was trying to find clean pair of jeans a couple of days after that week, he found a pair stuffed at the bottom, heavy with the weight of dried come on them. Weird stuff. 

But it wouldn’t be like that this time. With a partner, while the orgasms are even more powerful, the haze that results in memory loss and mind-warping diminishes until it's almost non-existent. Stiles couldn’t wait. He could finally get his hands on every part of Derek. Before, they did all sexual acts with most of their clothes on, so they’ve never actually seen each other naked.

Stiles is in the kitchen gathering supplies to take to his room, when his dad wanders in dressed in his uniform. Stiles has always liked that uniform. He once stole one from his dad’s closet and went to school wearing it. It was huge on him at that point, but he loved it, even though the school called his dad to talk about appropriate school wear soon after he arrived. His dad had just laughed, but from then on had kept a close eye on what Stiles wore whenever he left the house.

“Hey.” His dad nods at him, settling down at the kitchen table to munch on the oatmeal that Stiles had made for him. It’s always a little awkward when heat week begins as Stiles’ pheromones go out of control and agitate all those around him. That is why his dad chooses to go stay at the McCall house for a couple of days to give Stiles the space he needs, and not get his senses assaulted every five minutes.

“You sure you’ll be alright by yourself?” His dad asks him this every single time, and while he does regularly come back to make sure Stiles is really okay and he’s got food and water prepared, that doesn’t stop him from worrying. It’s just what dad’s do, Stiles guesses.

“Yes, dad, I’ll be fine. I’ve done this before. You know, it isn’t exactly the worst thing to happen to person,” Stiles jests with sly grin. His dad rolls his eyes. Stiles wonders if his dad’s eyes ever get tired because of the amount of times he has to roll them at his son.

“Well, the school’s been called, your friends will gather all your homework and bring it around when you’re done and I’ll come back as often as I can to check on you. I’m staying at Melissa’s, so you have her number and my number and everyone’s number if something goes wrong. Okay?” Stiles can almost see the mental checklist his dad is ticking his way down. He is the Sheriff through and through.

“Dad, we do this every three months. You give me the same speech every time, I can practically recite it word for word now. You don’t have to worry. Go spend some time with Melissa. Do your job and I’ll go be enslaved by my biology for the next week. Omega: strong and proud!” Stiles snorts, one fist thrown into the air. His dad grimaces.

He doesn’t like it when Stiles insults his biology, as he is one of those people who genuinely believes that omegas are special. They aren’t entirely rare, but they are most definitely the minority, and their ability to reproduce makes them some of the best commodities the world has to offer. Stiles hates that some people think of him like that, like he’s a commodity. He’s fortunate that no one he knows treats him that way, but the internet is a wonderful place for reading horror stories from other omegas.

“Stiles,” his dad says carefully.

“Yeah, I know, I shouldn’t speak like that. I’m special. I can bring the miracle of life. I _should_ be proud,” Stiles says with all the enthusiasm one possesses when having a prostate exam. His dad’s grimace deepens, but instead of having yet another argument about this, his dad lets it go.

“By the way, I texted a list of the food you’re allowed to eat to Melissa, so don’t even think about asking her for some carb-loaded, cholesterol-filled, one-way-ticket-to-heart-attack-central meal. She has been warned of the repercussions. And you already know yours,” Stiles threatens, finger wagging at his father’s face, who looks slightly horrified. He is no doubt remembering the week that Stiles made him eat only green vegetables. Noah Stilinski can know no longer look at avocado without wanting to throw up.

“Melissa is a nurse, and I’m sure even she’ll tell you you’re going to the extreme. The doctor only suggested that I eat healthier because I was getting older and heart disease is common in my side of the family, not because I was actually ill. Come on Stiles, let me eat a goddamn burger! I need meat, not mushed up green stuff,” his dad demands, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Stiles barely refrains from chuckling. The expression on his dad’s face is hilarious, so sad, so sorrowful. The poor man really loves his meat, but Stiles is a health food devil, well, a health food devil for his dad. Curly fries are fair game for the son though. “There is no budging me on this, old man. Nice try.”

Sighing deeply, his dad gets up and washes his bowl. A few minutes later, he is ready to leave, but not before he does another check of the house and his son.

“Dad, I’ll be okay, I promise,” he swears to the man, who is holding Stiles’ face in between his hands, scanning him up and down. This is one of the many reasons he loves his dad. He doesn’t just love, he adores, he wears his heart on his sleeve, and his heart belongs to his son. Stiles smiles tentatively, slightly overwhelmed by all the emotion in the room. There is something about heat week, despite the awkwardness, that brings the two of them closer. Maybe he just hates that he can’t protect Stiles from this, knowing the pain of spending a heat alone, knowing that Derek is out there, and he can’t have him. Maybe he hates that he has to leave Stiles all alone, that he has to force Stiles to be alone.

“I love you, Stiles,” the Sheriff says quietly.

Stiles doesn’t know why he feels like crying all of a sudden. “I know, dad. I love you too. Now, get out of here. Go get your McDonald’s breakfast on your way to work that you think I don’t know about.”

His dad’s eyes pop open, like a deer in headlights. He obviously didn’t think he would get caught. As if. Stiles is the sly one in this family, Noah is the rule-abider. And, anyway, his dad isn’t subtle about the wrappers, they are always laying at the top of the garbage bag whenever Stiles takes out the trash.

His dad’s shock fades into an unapologetic smile. He pats Stiles’ shoulder then leaves for work. Stiles hates that he barely withholds a whine at the loss of his parent. His dad may be human and only a beta at that, but during heat week, loss of that potential comfort hurts. The first day is never so bad, usually just filled with exhaustion as his body prepares for the upcoming exertion, but that doesn’t mean it’s a positive. Nothing about his body overriding his brain will ever be a positive.

Stiles watches his dad drive away, hearing the rubber squeak on the concrete as he goes, but he withholds any outwardly distress. He won’t have to wait long before this house is occupied by more than one person anyway.

Derek did say he had no idea what time he would be over, but it would always be after school because they can’t risk Talia or Andrew growing suspicious. He also needs a proper excuse to not return home for the night. Stiles trusts that Derek will come up with a good argument. He has the right motivation.

Stiles then spends the rest of the morning lounging about the living room, sometimes reading, sometimes checking through his Instagram feed, and others watching crap television. Stiles really wonders what the world is coming to when people like Kim Kardashian are idolised. But, hey, it’s not for him to judge. He just switches over.

Later, Stiles changes into his most faded and softest jeans and oldest t-shirt, then flops on his bed, his mind floating away. He thinks about grabbing his laptop and turning on Netflix, but it feels too far away right now. Everything does. Everything feels fuzzy, like the feeling you get on a Saturday morning, blankets warm and the sun lighting the sky. Stiles knows he doesn’t have long left before sleep consumes him, so he drags himself up and eats a couple of crackers and an orange messily. Making sure to drink plenty of water as well, Stiles collapses on his bed. He is out before he can even bring the blankets up over himself.

***

Stiles wakes up to fingers stroking his cheek. It’s a nice way to wake up.

“Hey there,” whispers a voice, _his_ voice. Stiles tries to reply but his mind is so scattered, body so heavy, all he can make is snuffling sound and burrow deeper into the bed. “Oh, baby, look at you.”

With all his might, Stiles pulls his hand away from his chest to stretch it out to his mate, who grips it immediately. He shuffles onto the bed, careful to not disturb Stiles too much. It still causes Stiles to whine low in throat as he is moved from his place of warmth. Derek runs hot though so Stiles doesn’t have much to complain about for long. Derek clutches him as close as possible, as if he is trying to merge them into one person. He begins rocking Stiles back and forth, little movements that lull Stiles back to a soft space. He keeps a tight hold on Derek though, no matter what mindset he is in, he needs his mate.

“Derek,” Stiles murmurs. It is the only word he can manage to say, the only one he has the strength for.

“I’m here, baby. And I’ll be here when you wake up. Promise.”

With those words, Stiles is taken away once again, falling into the sleep’s waiting arms.

***

The world is burning. There is fire everywhere, racing up his spine, stabbing through his eyes, engulfing his entire body until he can’t feel anything, can’t think anything, can’t be anything. Except for one.

Stiles knows Derek is next to him, draped right over Stiles’ flaming flesh. He can’t stop himself, doesn’t want to. This is his first heat with his mate, and he is fucking desperate to get started.

Stiles heaves himself on top of his mate’s still sleeping frame. He frees himself and Derek just enough so their members can touch, but can’t focus to the point of being able to properly remove their clothes. As soon as Stiles’ rock-hard cock rubs against Derek’s flaccid one, he groans, louder than he expected to. Even when soft, any kind of friction feels truly incredible.

Stiles starts moving, rocking back and forth without any kind of rhythm, completely at the mercy of his body’s impulses, frantically trying to reach that pleasure. He wants to see his come splattered all over his mate’s body, wants Derek’s dick to fucking split him in half, wants to ride Derek like a roller-coaster, wants to be chocked with Derek’s cock until he can’t breathe. He wants it all.

He ruts even faster, no coherent thoughts in his brain, just keeps going, determined. As he is about to come, about to paint his mate’s body with thick white ropes, Derek’s eyes fly open and capture Stiles right in the perfect moment. He lets go and his release splatters over Derek’s chest, face and even his hair. Stiles lets loose a violent groan as the last waves simmer out.

It is fantastic, but it doesn’t last long. He needs more.

“Shit, Stiles,” Derek puffs, glancing down at himself covered in come and then his flustered mate on top who is trying frenziedly to get out of clothes but has got his arm stuck in one of the holes. Derek’s once soft cock is now weeping, becoming hard from the constant contact. It’s quite a sight to wake up to.

“Derek, please, I can’t…” Stiles wails, his arm truly stuck now, but his hips have started to move again, because he honestly has no control anymore. He wants, and he wants, and he _needs_.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Just calm down and we’ll be okay,” Derek shushes him tenderly. He reaches up and untangles the omega, throwing his shirt on the floor and then quickly adding his own to the pile. Stiles takes some deep breaths to keep himself steady as Derek gets rid of the final pieces of clothing, leaving both boys completely bare. Stiles is nearly destroyed. Derek is so fucking beautiful. The most beautiful thing this world is capable of creating. It gives Stiles a few seconds of clarity, a few seconds to just appreciate the beauty of the body laying underneath him.

“I love you so much,” Stiles says nearly inaudibly, as if the words are so precious only the two of them can be allowed to hear them, not another living soul should ever be able to pry in on this moment. 

“God, I love you too. Stiles, my Stiles.” Derek sits up faster than the eye can track. He claims Stiles’ mouth as his own, honeyed tongue spearing inside, stabbing and tasting and taking. Derek’s hands slide up Stiles’ burning skin, digging in and scratching lines until red welts appear, wanting to create a firm mark on the omega that will make the him Derek’s forever. But he can’t do what he really wants to do, and neither can Stiles. They cannot bite each other. At least, not near their necks. That is something their parents would notice instantaneously. Instead, they settle on scratches and hair pulls and nipping to the point of pain.

Stiles’ hands push into Derek’s hair, yanking the strands to encourage Derek to make that sound, that wrecked, gorgeous, unique sound he only makes in the throws of pleasure. Stiles keeps his mouth on Derek’s, keeps their tongues dancing, sucking his mate’s bottom lip into his mouth so that wonderful Derek taste will always stay fresh.

Derek takes over in an instant, reversing their positions, flipping Stiles on his back and gnawing on Stiles’ lips to punish him for trying to steal control. Stiles almost giggles but is distracted by Derek’s dick gliding against his own, pre-come mixing, everything mixing until they are indistinguishable in every way. Both of their dicks are now an angry red, all their blood rushing to their groins.

“Fuck, Derek. Get inside me now!” Stiles begs, squeezing Derek’s biceps with tight fingers. Derek looks ready to make a sarcastic comment back, but Stiles’ wandering hands move down and grip the alpha’s beautifully sculpted ass and set their dicks rubbing faster. Derek gulps, becoming more than willing to fulfil Stiles’ command.

Derek dives to grab the lube from the bedside drawer. He also picks up a knot-proof condom, because they are both taking every precaution possible. Stiles has been on birth control from the moment he and Derek had started talking about spending his heat together. Stiles hopes both of these things will be enough. They have to be.

Derek slicks himself up and rolls on the condom. The sight of Derek touching himself earns a muffled moan from Stiles. He twitches underneath his mate as the fire in his groin continues to build. Stiles’ breaths come out in heavy pants as he realises what is about to happen.

Derek lubes up two fingers and immediately pushes them into Stiles leaking, pink hole. Stiles clenches down on the feeling, wanting to keep Derek’s fingers in there always. Derek smirks a little at the pitiful groans Stiles keeping eliciting, circling his hips to drive those fingers in deeper. Derek adds another finger, then another, four fingers stretching and twisting until Stiles can barely remember his own name. He’s never felt pleasure like this before. 

“Derek! Ah! Oh, Derek…” Stiles nearly sobs. Derek’s nails are just grazing his prostate, but he can’t wait any longer, and Derek can sense that. He removes his fingers and Stiles hates and loves it. 

“I know, baby. You’re doing so well. You’re my gorgeous little omega and you’re taking this so well,” Derek drawls seductively. “I’m going to make you feel so good. So good. Fill you with my come, keep you plugged with my knot, hold you down and fuck you until you pass out.”

Stiles whimpers. He wants that. He needs that.

“Yes, yes, I want it! Please, alpha!” Stiles pleads, hands traversing up and down Derek’s sweating body because he can’t settle. He needs to be filled.

Derek moves, elbows resting on either side on Stiles’ face, then directs his cock to Stiles gaping hole. He thrusts all in one go, thick member buried all the way to the base. Stiles gasps. He wants to faint from the sensation, but Derek begins to move and that’s all he can feel. Derek’s dick is magic, always has been, seven inches of uncut brilliance, now sliding in and out of his mate’s body, hot clasp of Stiles’ opening welcoming the pain and the pleasure.

The world falls apart, leaving only Derek’s grunts and Stiles’ keening as their bodies joined in more than one way. Derek finds Stiles’ hands and entwines their fingers, hoping to keep as many points of their skin connected. Stiles uses whatever is left of brain to lift his legs and wrap them around Derek’s hips to encourage him to go faster, heels digging into Derek’s ass. 

“Derek!” Stiles screams when his dick hit the perfect spot, almost forcing him to come right there and then. “More!”

Complying, the alpha snaps his hips to a brutal pace that has Stiles’ head about a centimetre away from knocking into his headboard. It’s so good. Flashes of sight lets Stiles see Derek’s face, a face that is continually switching back and forth between wolf and man. It just makes Stiles harder.

They keep going, keep pulling and pushing at each other, feeling their bodies burn together. Derek’s eyes catch Stiles’ and all he can see is pure love reflected back to him. Derek lunges down and lays his lips on Stiles, both of their mouths opening so their tongues can touch. Stiles truly believes Derek is the best kisser in the world. Stiles submits to Derek’s dominance, letting him decide the path. His tongue curls around his mate’s, dragging it forward, like he’s trying to steal it away from Stiles. Greedy bastard. He already has every bit of Stiles there is.

They don’t stop, not even when their mouths become so weak they cannot be said to be kissing anymore, just one breath shared back and forth, just lips brushing. The pleasure continues to grow. Stiles’ dick is almost purple with the need to come, curving up towards his belly. He knows he is there, right where he needs to be. With one final push, Derek fully hits that point inside Stiles to push him over the edge, his knot beginning to swell. Stiles cries out, back arching off the bed, as his come splashes across both boys, branding both bright white.

Stiles clamping down on Derek’s dick sets him off as well, his knot growing larger as he begins to come, sending hot, thick spurts of himself inside of his mate. There is so much, Stiles wonders how it can even all fit in the condom.

As they both ride out the aftershocks, Derek’s hips still undulating like a spasm, the world finally comes back into view and Stiles can breathe again. He’s aware that it won’t last that long, but now that he’s been knotted and his mate is a constant presence, the heat shouldn’t be so intense anymore.

Stiles’ eyes begin to close, even though his dick is still trying to make a valiant attempt at rising again, but Stiles commands that it shut the fuck up. He wants to rest, wants to sleep plastered across his mate and when he wakes up, then they can fuck like bunnies again. Derek can sense Stiles’ tiredness, so switches their positions, allowing the smaller boy to rest on top of him. The knot shows no signs of lessening and the added tugging of changing places leaves Stiles more than a little aroused again. It’s like his mind has been split in half. But this time he tries to ignore his lower half and focuses on breathing, keeping in time with the beating of Derek’s heart.

“That was awesome,” Stiles mumbles into Derek’s chest. He resists the urge to say thank you because that would be ridiculous, but for some reason, his stupid omega brain thinks he needs to express gratitude for an alpha making him orgasm. He keeps this instinct low, and instead buries himself deeper in Derek’s neck, a place he likes to go for comfort because his scent is strong there, and even as a human Stiles can sense the protection it entails. Derek’s hands lazily trail up and down Stiles’ back, obviously as tired as Stiles but desiring that same solace.

“Yeah, it was,” Derek mutters back, breath rustling Stiles damp hair.

“What did you tell your parents about staying over?” Stiles asks some time later, using his right hand to slowly lift himself to face Derek, eyes meeting in the light of the setting sun. 

“I said Erica was having a crisis and needed me to stay over. They bought it. She has a crisis every other week.” Derek shrugs, and Stiles chuckles a little. Erica does like to make a drama about things. Stiles can’t count on his fingers the amount of midnight calls he’s gotten, complaining over this and that, which eventually leads to drunken, ice cream-filled drives through the streets of Beacon Hills, ending in the Preserve so they could enjoy the view. But that’s what makes Erica so fun. He wouldn’t change his Catwoman for the world.

“Has your dad texted you since he left?” Derek clears some hair away from Stiles’ face.

“Yeah, just before you arrived. He’ll come over during his lunch break tomorrow and check up on me,” Stiles answers with a wave of his hand. It flops back down as soon as he’s done, all his energy depleted. “He’ll be here and gone before you even get back from school.”

Derek hums in response. At long last, the knot loosens and Stiles is able to rest without the risk of his lingering arousal being brought to the surface too soon.

After a short nap, the fire sparking underneath Stiles’ skin rises once again, but this time Derek is prepared. He notices the change in Stiles’ heartbeat, his scent, and moves to settle in between Stiles’ toned thighs. He watches in avid fascination as Stiles’ cock grows in size, blood filling it quickly. It grows so beautifully hard, Derek can’t resist. He swallows Stiles all the way down to the root, dark curls tickling Derek’s nose.

Stiles gasps awake then groans brutally. Derek could be accused of trying to suck Stiles’ brain out of cock the way he pulls at it. Derek has never given head before, the same way Stiles hasn’t, but from what little knowledge he has about it from his friends, he concludes that Derek is a natural. He is so good, Stiles doesn’t even feel the need to buck up into Derek’s mouth, he is doing this so well that Stiles lets all thoughts of control fly away.

Derek lets Stiles’ dick drop from his mouth when he realises Stiles is properly awake and breathing shakily above him. “Enjoying yourself?” Derek inquires with a smirk, eyes twinkling evilly.

“Shut the fuck up, you smug bastard, and get my dick back in your mouth,” Stiles demands, cheeks flushed a pretty pink, especially as Derek leans down and breathes a line of hot air over his sensitive length.

Derek does comply though, lapping at Stiles’ cock at first, tiny kitten licks to bring that flush from Stiles’ cheeks all the way down to his toes. The scent of sex once again permeates the room as a drop of Stiles’ pre-come dribbles down his dick, which Derek swoops down to taste as fast as it is released. Stiles moans. Derek takes things further, finally bringing his mate back in his mouth, his tongue tracing the thick vein on the underside. This has Stiles collapsing back in the pillows, trying to recapture a breath that can never be caught.

“Derek, it feels so good. So good,” he wheezes, one hand running through Derek’s hair and the other tearing at the blanket with blunt fingernails.

Derek makes an agreeable sound, the vibration only serving to harden Stiles’ dick until it’s physically painful. Derek keeps sucking, that talented tongue circling around the tip of Stiles’ dick before travelling back down to the base. It’s like Derek doesn’t even possess a gag reflex. Stiles tips his head to watch Derek again. His hollowed-out cheeks evidently trying to take as much of Stiles for as long as he can. Stiles can see the saliva forming at the edge of Derek’s mouth and Stiles wants to stay like this forever. It’s that moment. That moment with Derek filled with Stiles, the perfect wetness surrounding his dick, that Stiles comes. He shouts Derek’s name as his release flows into Derek’s mouth and trickles out of it as there is too much to swallow all in the one go. Derek is perfect.

Before Stiles can even form a thought, Derek climbs up his body to smack their lips together, forcing Stiles’ own come into his mouth. It’s bitter and strange, but fantastic. He sucks on Derek’s tongue to get as much of it as possible.

“Wow,” Derek says against Stiles’ lips. “You taste incredible.”

Stiles has no words to say back so he smiles and keeps smiling. He glances down to Derek’s ignored arousal and decides that is just not good enough. He encourages Derek to kneel over his face, bringing the alpha’s cock into his mouth with a firm pull. Derek groans, pushing himself further into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles chokes a little, clearly not having the same lack of gag of reflex Derek does, but he powers on. When Derek looks to be pulling away, Stiles grips Derek’s firm ass in hand and brings him back. He fucking needs this, needs to be choked, needs to filled in every way.

It doesn’t take long. Derek had been waiting for this all throughout Stiles’ orgasm, so some slurping and wet suction later leads to Derek coming, hard, his balls emptying into Stiles without warning. Stiles can’t _breathe_ with the sheer amount being flooded into his mouth. He absentmindedly wonders if it has started running out of his nose when he feels wetness on his face. But it becomes clear that the wetness are tears.

Derek shuffles back until he’s laying on top of Stiles like before, hands sweeping over Stiles’ face, gathering tears and come and spit. “Hey, baby, are you alright?” Derek asks worriedly as the tears keep streaming.

Stiles doesn’t know why he is crying, but he knows it is not a bad thing. “I’m okay. I promise. Just a lot. I think.” Derek must not hear the lie in his heartbeat, so he smiles at his mate and kisses him softly on the lips, then his nose, then his forehead.

Derek finds a comfortable spot, head laying on Stiles’ chest while Stiles plays with his hair. The wolf makes small rumblings sounds of pleasure and Stiles wants to tease him about it, but he just grins to himself instead. It’ll be a joke for another day. Waiting for the next bout to hit, they lie in Stiles’ mess of a bed, heads in the clouds while the stars wave at them.

***

Every time Stiles needs something, Derek is there. He holds Stiles as he rides his cock, hips writhing and snapping as they both chase their orgasms. Derek fucks Stiles’ face until Stiles can’t tell which way is up. Derek takes him from behind, on his front, on his back, fucking every hole available. They both end up drenched in come. And this is all before Stiles’ daily alarm goes off telling him it’s time to get up for school. Teenagers really do have an amazing refractory period.

Stiles falls to his side of the bed, landing in a large puddle of wetness when he does, but he doesn’t care. Both boys lie panting on their backs side by side, fingers tangled. Stiles turns to Derek who is doing the same thing, same thought in mind. They meet in the middle, lips grazing lovingly. Stiles doesn’t want to move away, but he knows he has to.

He hates saying it, but he does anyway, “You need to go have a shower before you go to school.”

Stiles sees Derek’s face drop and it breaks Stiles’ heart. He tries his best to kiss the face away.

Derek is upset but resigned. He sighs, then gets up from the sticky disorder of the sheets. Stiles watches as he picks up a towel and the change of clothes he brought and heads off towards the bathroom across the hall. Stiles buries his face in the pillow Derek slept in as soon as he’s out of sight. Between them, they’ve both only had a few hours of sleep, so while Derek showers, Stiles takes the time to sleep. His last thought is that he feels sorry for Derek, who has to go to school with barely any time to shut his eyes. If he so much as blinks too heavily, Harris will murder him.

Stiles wakes up slowly, finding Derek rubbing a towel through his hair as he walks through the doorway. He spots Stiles blinking at him and moves to kneel on the floor to bring their faces close, noses touching intermittently.

“Don’t forget to take your suppressers,” Stiles reminds Derek, who nods slowly.

“I will. I’ll take one after breakfast. And then I’ll take another shower.” The suppresser will conceal some of Derek’s scent, make it less noticeable to other wolves. It will not disappear, but the time the two of them spent together should remain undetected, especially after Derek takes another shower after breakfast. The system should work until Stiles’ heat ends. If it doesn’t, then, well, they’re screwed. But Stiles has his fingers crossed. And anyway, a majority of people, excluding Scott and Allison, all believe they want to wait so they won’t be looking for that scent, and Stiles trusts those two to keep his secret.

“Come on, lazy. Let’s go have breakfast and I’ll suck you off before I leave,” Derek says with a flash of teeth.

That gets Stiles up quickly, despite vehemently protesting, “You would be tired too if you had had to deal with double doses of heat haze and your werewolf-y strength. Like Jesus, did no one ever tell you that you don’t have to rearrange your mate’s organs while inside of him because it sure as fuck feels like you did.” He shoves on some sweatpants, grimacing slightly as the dried come scratches over the material.

“I didn’t hear you complaining last night. I think you even begged for it,” Derek replies, winking. 

Stiles blushes red at the memory, but turns away so Derek can’t see it. They tiptoe down the stairs, and once in the kitchen, Stiles sets about making French toast. The beginnings of arousal coil in his dick, but he wills it away for now, favouring to make a good breakfast because he is fucking starving. The only person that will eat burnt toast in this house is his dad, because apparently the burnt adds _"character"_. Stiles calls bullshit on that. Who could ever like eating something burnt? His dad must have a screw loose, Stiles thinks jovially.

Once it’s done, Stiles plates up and the two boys sit at the table. But after a while, Stiles can’t seem to ignore that pulse under his skin, so he moves to sit in Derek’s lap, resting his head on his shoulder. He forks some food into his mouth but after a couple of bites, he is full and just spends the time trailing his nose up and down Derek’s neck. He likes the way Derek’s hair tickles his nose. 

When Derek is done, he shifts and presses his lips to Stiles’. Stiles opens his mouth without a thought, tongue finding Derek’s in hopes of tasting that sweetness so associated with Derek. He straddles Derek’s lap, their clothed cocks just shy of touching.

“I want you,” Stiles whispers, lifting his hands to wind them in Derek’s hair. Their gazes meet, revealing Derek’s kaleidoscope eyes to be blown wide, so broad Stiles could have fallen into them.

“I want you too, but we can’t. I need to go to shower again, I need to go to school. You know that,” Derek says sadly.

Stiles knows that, he just doesn’t like it. 

Stiles tries his best to tamper down the heat that wants to surge, but he rocks forward anyway, all blood rushing downwards. He should let go, but he finds himself pulling Derek closer until their chests are crushed together and their swollen erections are barely concealed by their clothing. Their lips crash into each other with a violence that should hurt, but instead, overcomes Stiles with excitement.

Stiles is able to distract his mate for a few more minutes, but Derek manages to disentangle himself, plopping Stiles back in his own seat.

“Stiles,” Derek sighs, but it is obvious he is just as pained about this as Stiles is, if his kiss-swollen lips and tent in his pants are anything to go by.

“Derek,” Stiles copies Derek, same heavy exhale. “But I was promised a blowjob. No leaving without some blowing.” That grin that Stiles so loves on Derek’s face appears, and Stiles can’t be more grateful for it.

Derek keeps his promise, and in moments, Stiles’ pants are wrapped around his ankles and Derek is swallowing him down. Stiles’ head falls back in sheer pleasure. His hands fly to clench Derek’s hair, hips bucking up at the same time. He faintly apologises when he hears Derek choke a little because of Stiles’ forcefulness, but he doesn’t have the wherewithal to do anything more. Derek’s tongue is fucking savage. It twists and turns around his dick as if he is trying to map it, keep it locked away in his memory forever. Stiles is more than okay with that. 

It doesn’t take long, just Derek flicking at the head with the tip of his tongue and Stiles is a goner. He comes in a long, hot burst. He pulls his head back up to see Derek swallow it down. Gorgeous. Stiles has to kiss him, so he does. Tasting his own release isn’t something he thought he would enjoy, but with Derek, Stiles is finding he can be pretty versatile.

While Stiles enjoys the aftermath of his orgasm lounging on the couch, Derek has another shower, brushes his teeth thoroughly, then comes back to find Stiles in the exact same position as before.

“I don’t think I move,” Stiles complains. “You broke me. You sex broke me. That’s cruel. You should never break someone through sex.” Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles’ ramblings, but refrains from commenting, just goes to make coffee for the road.

Derek is ready to leave a few minutes later and Stiles is an inch away from clinging to him like a limpet. He doesn’t want to go back to jerking off by himself, but he lets Derek leave with the barest amount of touching, not wanting his scent to linger for too long. It nearly kills him. He stays at the window long after Derek drives away but decides that the quicker he gets through this day, the quicker Derek will be back. And anyway, his dad deserves better than to come home to his house reeking of sex.

It’s good. Stiles is able to keep a clear head for longer now that he’s been satiated. He opens all the windows in the house, changes his sheets, and takes a long shower. He can’t resist beating off though. It doesn’t take long, some nice, harsh tugs and he’s coming all over the shower tiles. He takes some time after that, replaying last night in his mind with forehead pressed against the smooth ceramics. He thinks about Derek’s fingers buried deep inside of him, his tongue connecting each mole with a sticky trail of saliva, and best of all, the look on Derek’s face as he thrusts in and out, face flushed and flickering back and forth between the change. It’s enough for Stiles to grow hard again, and then the poor shower is getting coated in another layer of his release before being washed away.

Stiles is dressed in more of his comfiest clothes when his dad arrives. He still sees the older man wrinkle his nose at the smell, but there is only so much Stiles can do about that, save burning down the house.

His heat simmers at the back of his mind, but he holds off to assure his dad he’s alright and can handle this, like he does every time. His dad doesn’t stay too long, knowing that his scent will only cause his son more stress, but he’s a single dad, who’s also the Sheriff, with an omega son so his protective instincts kind of go out of control. They say goodbye and Stiles sits through the same process as the one he went through with Derek.

Time passes strangely, rushing forwards then halting, as if it can’t decide what it wants. Stiles can understand its indecision. Nevertheless, it is torturous. He misses Derek. He needs Derek. But his mate is at school, while Stiles has a hand glued to his cock, fifthly squeezing and cursing until he barely recognises himself. 

Stiles is practically on the verge of tears when he feels a hand on his face. His eyes blink open slowly, finally focusing for long enough to see Derek’s silhouette sitting above him. He whimpers, hand outstretched and shaking for Derek to take.

“Hey, I’m here. Don’t worry. Open your legs for me, beautiful,” Derek instructs Stiles, who does it without question. There is a cool breeze over his skin as Derek removes his clothes, but Derek’s stroking of his fingers up Stiles’ bare legs distracts him easily. Any coolness he was feeling is destroyed as Derek’s hands seem to burn paths up his flesh. All the while, Stiles’ hips start rotating searching for their partner and once Derek sees, he moves to hang above the omega like he did before. He also somehow manages to take off his clothes, put on a condom and grab lube, without Stiles noticing.

Step by step, Derek and Stiles lose all sense of anything but each other. Derek’s fingers enter him one by one, pushing Stiles back into that state of mind once more. Heat. Derek. Mate. He is completely at Derek’s mercy. Moaning like a cheap whore, fucking himself down in Derek’s fingers, as if he could bring them further inside, despite how impossible it is. Those special appendages just scrape Stiles’ prostate but it’s enough to bring him bowing off the bed, nearly snapping himself in half. Derek literally looks fucked-out, pupils overwhelming all of his eyes and panting away, heavy breaths smacking Stiles in the face in time with the action of his hands.

Finally, they grow tired of foreplay and plunge into each other. Derek spreads Stiles wide and shoves inside in two firm attacks. It’s an amazing feeling, but gone all too soon as their teasing of each other means neither last long. They breathe to the same pattern, short, fast, almost not even breathing. Derek thrusts once, twice, thrice, and his knot pops and locks himself inside of his mate with a roar. The sound reverberates through Stiles and then he is coming too, impossible amounts of white spurting all over himself and Derek.

And that’s how their week goes. They fuck all night, Derek leaves for school and comes back straight afterwards, even when he tells his family he is staying home that night. By the time his heat finally breaks, Stiles is fucking exhausted, but it’s also been one of the best weeks of his life.

His first day back, he spots Derek by his locker and his heart skips. He always used to think it was cliché, the stuff of books and fairy-tales, but with Derek, he feels his breath hitch, his heart flutter, because he loves him more than words can say and even after spending the entire week together, he misses him. They kiss zealously, to the distaste of everyone around them, but they are together and that’s all they care about.

The day goes by without a care, but as Stiles leaves for home, something in the clouds unsettles him. It is as if a bomb is about to drop and Stiles will never be able to guess what the fallout will be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your support! I love hearing what you all have to say about my work! <3
> 
> By the way, the whole Sheriff liking burnt toast thing, I inserted for fun, because it's a thing my dad likes and I love to tease him about it. His reply is always, "It adds character!" I still don't get it. Why does he like eating burnt toast? Madness. Haha.


	4. Sign, Smell, Sourwolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry this took so long, but I have been so busy recently and I haven't really been all that inspired to write. But I have a very long Christmas holiday coming up so I'm hoping to finish this story during that time. But here's the next chapter. Hope you guys enjoy it. This where the plot really starts to develop. Yay! <3
> 
> Warning: very small panic attack and very vaguely implied abortion

Stiles feels strange.

Strange doesn’t necessarily mean bad, or necessarily good, but in this instance, strange simply feels strange. He finds himself craving the oddest of things, like tomatoes and sugar, rice and ketchup, but he dismisses them because he knows himself to be a weird person, so what’s a few more oddities to the mess? But it disturbs him anyway. He also finds he desires Derek’s company more, his scent becoming even more enrapturing. Derek doesn’t mind. Stiles thinks he even prefers it, and while Stiles is inclined to agree with him, it frustrates him that his inner omega whines whenever Derek is further than three feet away. He stamps down on the feeling whenever it arises, but it pisses him off. He is allowed to have some time to himself without Derek around, and the same goes for Derek about him. Goddamn stupid instincts.

Despite all the strangeness, Stiles continues to live his life as normally as possible. Though he does feel himself drifting back to the events of heat week often. He daydreams about Derek in all sorts of positions. He wants to do it again, and again. But other that, he goes to school, he spends time with his friends and his dad and the Hales. He laughs and kisses Derek. He’s a teenager, and that’s good. But of course, as a teenager, drama seems to follow. Which is why a few weeks after his heat, it all goes to hell.

He is at the Hale house on a Saturday afternoon, watching movies with Cora, while Derek is away at a basketball game, when the urge suddenly hits. He slaps two hands over his mouth and speeds to the bathroom with barely any time to spare. Everything Stiles has eaten in the past twenty-four hours comes up. After he’s done, all he’s left with are feelings of emptiness. Frankly, he feels more terrible than ever. He groans loudly over the toilet bowl. What the hell? Is he sick?

Stiles twists to see Cora looking worried, and slightly disgusted. She creeps closer carefully before placing a hand on his back. “Hey, are you okay? Are you getting sick?”

Stiles shrugs weakly, flushing the toilet and struggling to his feet. Cora steps to his side, ready to catch him if he trips. He proves both himself and her wrong by being able to reach the sink and wash out his mouth. Glancing at himself in the mirror, the only word he can think to describe himself is hellish. His eyes are sunken and his face is pale, but somehow he feels flushed anyway.

He practically topples down the stairs and then face plants on the couch. Cora had been cautiously following him and when she reaches the den, she lifts his feet to sit at the end next to him.

“I should go home. Just tell Derek I got sick,” Stiles mutters, starting to squirm to get up. Cora, with her very active inhuman reflexes, pushes him back into the couch before he can make much of a headway.

“Nuh-huh, you’re not going anywhere, Linda Blair,” Cora commands him. “Stay here and rest a bit, then Derek can drive you home once he’s back.”

Stiles knows Cora is being reasonable, but right now he just feels like going home and passing out in own bed. Still, one look from Cora tells Stiles that he better not go even two feet without assistance. His small look in the mirror must not really do justice for how rotten Stiles looks.

Cora presses play on the DVD player, but Stiles doesn’t resume watching the film like before. Instead, he simply drifts off and doesn’t wake up until it’s Derek sitting next to him. “Hey there. Cora told me what happened. You alright?”

“Yeah, I feel better now that I’ve slept.” Stiles flips to be able to sit up and face his mate. “But that was awful. I must be getting something serious.”

“Luckily, I can’t catch anything. Come here,” Derek says, waving a hand to encourage Stiles to snuggle into his side, head laying on Derek’s shoulder. With all the muscle Derek is packing away, his shoulder should not be as comfortable as it is, but Stiles could swear it is as soft as a feather-stuffed pillow.

“How was your game?” Stiles asks after a point. The television had been turned off earlier, so Derek had started reading a book for his English class before Stiles spoke up.

Derek finishes reading a sentence and turns the page of his book before looking to Stiles. “We won, not by much, but I’ll take it.” Stiles approves before settling back in.

Talia comes home a few hours later, discovering the two boys to have hardly moved, Stiles on the verge of sleep with his head in Derek’s lap. She shakes her head at them then starts slamming pots and pans in the kitchen to simultaneously wake them up and piss them off. They stumble through the doorway and Talia turns to the two of them.

“Boys, it’s barely six o’clock, why in the hell are you both tired? Go out and do something active while I start making dinner. Stiles, you staying?”

Stiles smiles, totally unrepentant. “I got sick earlier, I even threw up, I think I have a pretty good excuse for being tired,” Stiles defends himself. “And yes. My dad is on night shift so I might as well.”

Derek looks to Stiles like he’s betrayed him. Stiles grins back. “The game was particularly tough?” Derek provides slowly.

Talia sniffs, literally and figuratively. Even as a human, Stiles can hear the skip in his heartbeat and he’s been next to Derek all day, he doesn’t smell of sweat. He could play basketball in his sleep.

Talia just shoos them away. They suggest going to pick up some more milk from the Mini-Mart in town and the alpha clucks her tongue. They take it as confirmation. 

They take Derek’s car and make it to the store in record time. They join hands and stroll down the aisles, most definitely abusing the power of Talia’s credit card, picking up a whole bunch of junk to snack on later. When Stiles throws in an inordinate amount of Reese’s peanut butter cups, Derek gags (he’s never really been a fan of peanut butter – it’s a constant source of pain for Stiles).

When they start going past the pharmacy aisle, Stiles says, “Hey, maybe I should pick up meds for anti-puking. I don’t want to be doing that again soon.”

Something passes over Derek’s face and it makes Stiles frown. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just – “ Derek pauses. “It’s just, you don’t smell sick. Not like that anyway. Last time you got ill, I could smell the change in your scent, it didn’t smell good, but now… it’s like…”

The longer Derek stutters, the more uneasy Stiles feels. “Derek, spit it out. It’s like what?”

“I don’t know – you don’t smell ill. That’s all I meant. Come on, we still need to get milk.” Derek grabs the cart then speeds away, leaving Stiles confused and just a little shocked. For a second, his eyes catch sight of long rectangular boxes to his right, but it sends a shiver down his spine, so he runs to catch up to Derek. Now that they’ve passed through that strangeness, Derek seems to have reverted to normal. He kisses Stiles’ forehead when he makes a corny joke about spilled milk when he drops a carton and they wait for an assistant to help them. Stiles savours the smile. He never wants to see that other look on Derek’s face again.

They finally reach the cashier where a girl they know from school, Heather, is working and grins and chats to them about Harris’ ability to douchebag. Stiles jumps wholeheartedly into an epic tale of his hatred for the teacher, so much so that Derek literally has to drag him away. He gives a quick goodbye to Heather and then is forced into the car.

“So, do you want to go to the cinema next weekend? The new Marvel movie is out,” Stiles asks, fiddling with a loose thread on his hoodie.

“Sure, as long you don’t regale me about every goddamn fact the Marvel universe has to offer before and after the movie. I really don’t need to know Iron Man’s favourite colour, even if you deem it necessary,” Derek warns him, giving him his scariest side-eye.

“Hey, if you really love me, you’ll learn to love the true nerd inside of me. We’re a package deal, mister,” Stiles protests.

Derek grunts, but Stiles can tell he’s resisting the urge to smile. Stiles ticks off another win in his head. He lets his head fall on the window so he can look up at the darkening sky. There is no sign of the moon. During the drive, Stiles’ mind is taken back to Derek’s words. It was such a strange thing. But it was like all the other strange things had been happening over the past few weeks. One after another, or maybe, building up to something. Something pulses at the back of his brain, but casting a quick look over at Derek, he never wants to entertain the possibility. It can’t be. It’s just strangeness. He can deal with that.

They make it back to the Hale house with plenty of time to help Talia plate up. Tonight’s dinner is meatloaf. It was never a favourite of Stiles’ until Talia made it for him. She is one of the best cooks around and Stiles will adamantly argue that point if someone tries to refuse it. Stiles gets to work straining the vegetables and Derek sets the table. Stiles likes this. He likes the domesticity of it, one of the few omega traits he claims. He thinks that one day Derek and him will have a place of their own and do this exact same thing. As Talia brings the big dish to centre of the table in the dining room, Stiles calls up to all the pack in their various rooms.

Laura is down in an instant, as enamoured as Stiles with her mother’s meatloaf. She's going back to college next week, and Stiles knows he will not be alone in missing her while she's away. Cora tumbles down not long after with a big sigh, shaking out her limbs after inevitably being sat in the same position watching Netflix for the past few hours. Andrew is the last and then they are all sat at the table. Stiles asks if Uncle Peter and his family are going to join them, but Talia shakes her head. Peter has just won a big case at his work, so he is taking his mate, Olivia, and their twins, Malia and Kylie out for dinner to celebrate. Peter is a big fancy attorney in San Francisco, which he loves reminding everyone about, but him and his family do often drop by to be with the pack.

General dinner conversation ensues so Stiles asks Laura if she has everything ready for going back. She nods. “Pretty much, yeah. I mean, I didn’t bring much back for the summer, so a lot of my stuff is still sitting in my apartment. I just have to have my fingers crossed that Jack hasn’t destroyed everything while I’ve been away,” Laura says it cheerfully, but Stiles can see in her eyes she thinks it could be a distinct possibility. Jack is Laura’s roommate, and while he is a cool guy, craziness seems to follow him. But he’s Laura’s best friend at college so no one is allowed to speak unkindly about him, unless you want punched in the balls.

“How is Jack doing by the way?” Stiles follows up, spearing another piece of meat loaf into his mouth at the same time. 

“Oh, he’s fine. He texted me a few days ago. He mainly messed around this past summer, but he seemed to enjoy himself. Might have even got himself a girlfriend,” Laura replies with a knowing wink.

Stiles rolls his eyes. Jack has a new girlfriend every few weeks, it’s not big news. Derek and Stiles share a look. Derek has the way of twitching the left-hand corner of his eye when he’s trying to hide his opinion about something. Stiles barely stifles a giggle when he sees it loom.

They end dinner with everyone helping to wash everything up, Derek and Stiles on dish washing, Cora and Laura on drying, Talia on putting away and Andrew wiping down the table. As soon as Stiles sees the mountain of bubbles in the sink, he can’t resist cupping a handful between his fingers and blowing them in Derek’s face. Derek ends up with little tufts of soap all in his hair and up his nose. Stiles, Laura and Cora all cackle at his face. Derek retaliates by picking up some and slathering it all over on Stiles’ hair. Before things can get too insane, Talia steps in and puts them back to work. But when she’s not looking, Derek discreetly huffs more bubbles Stiles’ way to punish him.

Stiles and Derek retreat to his room where they resume searching colleges that would suit the two of them and their course choices. Stiles wants to study criminal psychology and Derek wants to get a degree in history, medieval or modern, he hasn’t decided yet. Berkeley looks like a good option because it’s close to both of their families, but Stiles does have this lingering fantasy about New York. His dad, of course, is fully supportive of him going far away, not wanting Stiles to be stuck in a town like Beacon Hills for the rest of his life. But while Stiles would love to see himself somewhere bright and flashy, he is still more than happy to live in the sleepy town of Beacon Hills because he knows it’s where Derek is happiest and he’ll do anything to make Derek happy.

“Look, that one hits every cliché. Kids fawning about on the lawn, big fancy cafes around every corner. Ooh, ooh, and look there’s even a rainbow in the background of that photo. I like that. What do you think – we go there, and we’ll turn into pod men?” Stiles laughs, finding the paper smiles on these students faces too funny to resist.

Derek grins back. “I don’t know. Those pod people look very happy. Living out the rest of their days in a mansion made out of clouds, eating grapes and spooning.”

Stiles dramatically groans. “Damn, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. Spooning. Mhmm.”

“Oh yeah? So, what happened during heat week, that was all…mediocre?” Derek asks with a raised brow.

“Yep, maybe if we’d spooned more, you would get a better grade.”

Derek grabs a pillow from his bed and wallops Stiles in the face with it. “There’s your spooning. Hope you enjoyed the experience. Feel free to fill out the comment card if you believe there are areas we can improve,” Derek says all of this with the high and mighty voice of a museum tour guide.

“Abuse!” Stiles yells, dashing for the bedroom door. He just makes it to top of the stairs when he is tackled from behind and he and Derek land in a heap in the hallway. “Help! Help! Some call the police, file a lawsuit, grab the wolfsbane bullets!” Stiles tries his best to remain serious, but Derek starts to tickle him, and the giggles start to peak through the cracks.

They stop when they hear footsteps, and both look up to find Cora staring down at them disapprovingly. “You guys are such losers,” she states matter-of-factly, then steps over them to head down the stairs.

Derek catches Stiles’ eye and they burst out laughing. Derek ducks down for a kiss, but Stiles dodges it, and teases his mate, by saying, “Uh-huh, we don’t forgive such actions with such a simple gesture. You’ll need to make it up to me.” 

“Alright, you drive a hard bargain.” The alpha werewolf leans in closer, lips brushing the omega’s ear. “How about you forgive me, and I’ll blow you?”

“Sold.”

Derek grins and pulls Stiles to his feet. The door closes with a bang and they don’t reappear until the next morning with Talia knocking and demanding that they get their assess out of bed. 

***

The next week doesn’t improve things for Stiles. It’s a rare day when he wakes up and finds he doesn’t want to throw up. His craving gets even weirder, and when he finds himself in the middle of the night dipping gherkins into peanut butter then ketchup, Stiles decides enough is enough. He needs to go to a doctor. But he doesn’t want his dad to know, he doesn’t want to worry him if nothing pans out. He doesn’t tell Derek either, just smiles whenever he feels awful and laughs when Derek expresses concern for him. _‘I’m fine, sourwolf. I’m always fine.’_ Because everything will be fine. Stiles truly believes that.

One day after school, Stiles presses a kiss to his mate’s lips, then drives away to Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. He had called Scott’s mom earlier in the week to make sure she was free, at least for a few moments so she can give him some advice.

Melissa is waiting at the reception desk, filing out patient forms, when Stiles arrives. He even has some brownies in hand to thank her for helping and agreeing not to talk to anyone about this.

“Hey.” Stiles smiles and holds up the brownie container to the exact line of her gaze.

“Stiles Stilinski, you are the master briber,” Melissa tuts, but she accepts the chocolatey goodness with a flourish, hugging them close to her. “Your father should never let you out the house.”

“Meh, I would find a way out. You remember the Great Grounding Saga of 2009,” Stiles reminds her.

“I do remember. You know what I also remember? Being in the room as the doctor reset your shoulder after you dislocated it trying to jump out of your window to the tree over in Mrs. Hudson’s front yard,” Melissa reminds him right back, with a pointed look that only a mother can give. 

Stiles just dismisses the memory with a wave of his hand. “Hey, I brought you brownies, be nice.”

Melissa rolls her eyes, but moves out behind the counter and leads him to one of the spare examination rooms, dumping the brownies in her locker quickly as they go by.

“So, what’s the problem?” Melissa asks, pulling out a chart and getting ready to write notes.

Stiles rattles off his symptoms, and over the course of him speaking, he sees Melissa’s face grow more and more serious. Once he’s done, she sets down her pen and paper and moves to sit down in front of him. Stiles doesn’t understand. He can’t remember seeing her look so grim before.

“Stiles, I’m going to ask you a question. And I want you to answer me honestly, even if it hurts, okay?” She reaches out her hand to cover Stiles’. “Stiles, have you been sexually active recently?” 

Stiles yanks his hand back and stumbles out of his chair. “Wh-what?” He runs his hands through his hair, heart rising to his throat, cutting off his airway. “Why would you ask me that? You’re not saying…Melissa, please don’t. Please don’t tell me you’re thinking what I’m thinking. Please.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” Melissa says, reeling Stiles in to hug him, absorbing his shudders with small breaths and comforting back rubs. “We don’t even know if it’s true yet. We’ll do some tests, and then we’ll know. And, Stiles…” She moves his face away from her neck, swiping a thumb under his left eye when she sees a tear start to form. “If…this comes back positive, then there are things we can do, you know that right? There are options.” Stiles nods, but he’s not really hearing her.

Oh God, can this really be happening? Just one heat and… Of course, this would happen to him. Of course it would.

Stiles turns his face to the ceiling, hoping to stop any more tears from escaping. They fall anyway.

His eyes find Melissa’s again. “Melissa, what have I done?”

Stiles thinks Melissa might want to cry as well.

Melissa takes a sample from him and leaves the room to get it tested, saying that they should know within the next week, but if Stiles wants to do his own test to confirm it, then that could be a good idea as well. It might be good for him to find out in private by himself. Stiles doesn’t speak, doesn’t agree, doesn’t protest. He sits and nods when it’s expected. 

But just when Melissa is about to open the door so they can leave, he says with the quietest of voices, “Don’t tell anyone, please?”

She spins around to face him, and with a sympathetic smile, replies, “Never. Patient-doctor confidentiality and all that.” Stiles tries to smile at that.

As Melissa walks Stiles out of the building, the universe elects to fuck with him even more. Obviously because his day hasn’t been bad enough already.

Scott is walking through the front door, big plastic bag in hand. He takes one look at the expressions on his mom’s and best friend’s face, and the dopey smirk he always seems to have going, disappears. He dumps the Chinese food on the reception desk and walks towards them.

“Mom, Stiles, what’s wrong?” Stiles can’t bear to look at the concerned expression on Scott’s face. It all hurts too much.

“Scotty, I really fucked up,” Stiles whispers. It’s a testament to the seriousness of the situation when Melissa doesn’t say anything about him swearing.

Scott exchanges a look with his mom, and she nods, so he takes Stiles by the arm and leads him out of the hospital. He doesn’t seem to care about Stiles’ concerns of his Jeep being left here. He just tosses Stiles into his own car and they drive off into the night. After picking up some fast food, which Scott just deems absolutely necessary, they park in Beacon Hills Preserve, right in the middle of nowhere.

Scott turns to him. “Tell me everything.”

So Stiles does.

When Stiles finishes, Scott leans over the console to hug him. Stiles appreciates it.

“What are you going to do?” Scott asks carefully.

“Confirm it. And if that happens, I don’t know, Scotty. I don’t fucking know. How am I supposed to take care of a kid? I still put my shirts on inside out if I’m not paying attention!”

The beginnings of a panic attack start to appear, but Scott squeezes his hand and he can breathe again. It doesn’t stop him from thinking that he hates this, he really, truly hates this. He hates all of it. “Stop. Don’t freak. We don’t even know if it’s true yet. And if it is, like I’m sure my mom told you, there are options. This doesn’t have to be the end of the world. Stiles, this will not define you,” Scott tells him earnestly. Stiles wants to cry again. He’ll never know what he did to deserve a friend like Scott McCall.

“Thank you, Scott.”

“Hey, if Batman can’t help Robin out, then who can he help?” Scott grins.

“Wait, why do you get to be Batman?” Stiles demands.

This thereon thus leads to an hour long debate about who should be Batman and who should be Robin. It’s so intense that they forget about their food and it just make Stiles even more arguable because now his curly fries are cold and soggy. He has to avenge them.

“I’m the one with powers. I grow fangs and claws! I should be Batman!”

“Batman is human! He doesn’t need powers, just his brain. And even if he did, your powers wouldn’t help. Wow, you grow more sideburns and Derek loses his eyebrows. Damn, that’s some magic there!” 

Eventually, they put the debate to rest and Stiles is driven home, but not without some bruised egos and dark looks.

Parked just outside his house they sit in silence for a while, listening to the wind whistle through the flaws in the car. Breaking the hush, Stiles says, “Scott, please don’t say anything, okay? I already made your mom promise the same thing.”

“Of course not, dude. I would never do that to you. But you know that, if it’s true, then everyone is going to know pretty soon. And there is one person more than anyone who deserves to hear this news from you.” Scott looks so sorrowful but serious at the same time. He doesn’t even need to say the name for Stiles to know exactly who he is speaking about.

“I know. But I wouldn’t even know where to start,” Stiles confesses, watching his dad turn on the light in the kitchen from the car.

“Start with the truth. That always helps,” Scott says, with a small, trying-to-be-light-hearted shrug.

Stiles smiles weakly and opens the door. Just before he can reach the front porch, Scott calls him back. Stiles turns and finds Scott leaning over the passenger side, holding out a small brown bag in his hands. Stiles frowns at it.

“My mom gave it to me before we left. If you want, you could use it.” Scott presses the bag into his hands, and Stiles realises what’s inside. Shit. He bends his neck to glance at his house again, seeing his dad’s shadow at the window. Oh God, what the hell is he going to do? What the hell is dad going to say? What the hell is Derek going to say? He knows it shouldn’t be the end of the world, but right now, he can’t help but feel like it’s pretty damn close.

Stiles nods and begins the walk into his house, clutching the bag close to him. He opens the door, tossing his dad a watery grin before running up the stairs as fast as possible. He hears his dad call after him, but he ignores it. He pulls out the box, unwrapping the stick and places it on the edge of the sink. He stares at it for a while. Nothing has changed yet, but if he does this, everything will. Everything changes. He takes a deep breath and picks up the stick again.

The next two minutes are the most agonising of Stiles’ life. His heart is racing, just waiting and waiting, fear piercing every inch of his body. He thinks he hears his dad outside the door, but the blood rushing in his ears prevents him from focusing on it.

Two minutes come and go.

Closing his eyes until six heartbeats have passed, he directs his attention to the devil stick.

“Shit.”

The stick falls from his fingers as his legs give out. Once on the floor, face pressed into the tiles while tears forge tracks down his face, the positive sign laughs at him.


	5. Panic, Panic, Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm so sorry it's been so long, but here we go! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the next chapter because it is extremely angsty...
> 
> I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and New Year! <3
> 
> Note: There are panic attacks in this chapter. Please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable.

Stiles didn’t sleep well that night.

After leaving the bathroom as quickly as possible, pregnancy test clutched in his fist, he had slammed into his bedroom, mind whirring, and stayed there until his dad had called him down for dinner.

Stiles hadn’t wanted to leave his safe retreat, fearful that one look at his dad’s face and he would be spilling his guts across the dinner table. But he had to leave otherwise the Sheriff would easily be able to tell something was wrong.

Carefully, Stiles descended the steps and slipped into his chair, eyes flitting back and forth between the food and his dad’s face. His dad looked worried, as he should after what he had just seen from his son. But Stiles wasn’t ready for any kind of big conversation yet. He needed time and, unfortunately, if that meant lying to the man that raised him, then, so be it. He wouldn’t even have known where to begin the story if he’d had to tell it there and then.

“Sorry about earlier. Didn’t feel well at all,” Stiles explained, which was true, the homemade tacos in front of him just made his stomach swirl.

“Well, I know you’ve been feeling bad for weeks now, and it’s not good. Do you think you should go see Melissa about it?”

Stiles looked at his dad sharply, thoughts of going to Melissa again even more unpleasant than being hit in the balls with a baseball bat. “No, no, that’s okay. I’m sure it’ll clear up. I’ll even pick up some more meds tomorrow.”

“Okay, but if it gets worse or lasts even longer, then don’t act all tough. Just get checked out,” his dad told him, picking up his taco again. Stiles had nodded, hating every second of the conversation and not wanting to even look at the food in front of him anymore. He ate it anyway.

Stiles had excused himself as quickly as possible, and then he was left in his room, ruminating on every problem that was currently being thrown at him by the bastard called life.

Problem 1: Stiles is pregnant.

Problem 2: He has to tell Derek, his father and the Hales about the pregnancy.

Problem 3: He has to decide what to do about the pregnancy.

Stiles doesn’t want to call his situation anything other than pregnancy. He doesn’t want to call it a baby, because that would make it real, a real, living being that is now inhabiting Stiles’s body and will pop out in about seven months. No, it’s not a baby, it’s a pregnancy, that’s it.

He’s seventeen fucking years old. He can’t be pregnant. He can’t be a teenage father. He can’t do this. This life inside of him shouldn’t be here, he’s not ready. He would have been one day a long time in the future, once had done all the things he wanted to do. But not now. This is wrong. It’s wrong for him and it’s wrong for Derek. He wants to live his life without worrying about his kid back home. Derek should be able to live his life without worrying the same. This can’t happen. It can’t be allowed to happen. A child deserves better than a couple of ill-prepared teenagers for parents.

Tomorrow he has to go to school. He has to divide Derek from their friends and ruin his life, forcing him to make choices that a seventeen-year-old shouldn’t have to make at this point in his life. He should be having fun with his friends, getting drunk, annoying his sisters, and just fucking being an irresponsible teenager. Stiles wishes he doesn’t have to tell Derek, that he can keep this a secret forever. But, Stiles is selfish, and frankly, he doesn’t want to go through this alone, he doesn’t want to go through this without _Derek_.

Then a thought occurs to him. What if Derek rejects him? What if he doesn’t want to be Stiles’ mate anymore? What if he leaves Stiles all alone? What if his dad does the same, casts him out, seventeen and pregnant and homeless? Oh God, what the hell is he going to do?

Stiles sits up, his breath catching in his throat. He can picture the look on Derek’s face, the shock and the fear, because he’ll have no fucking clue what to do, because there is no simple answer. He’s so screwed. Stiles curls in on himself, tears pricking his eyes and breathing faltering continuously. He can’t do this, he doesn’t want to. And like that, the panic takes over. He’s lost, his brain snapping apart. Heaving, Stiles collapses back on his bed, tears falling and breaths so shallow they barely register. Soon enough, he is so exhausted, that he simply passes out.

***

Stiles moves in a trance the next day. He doesn’t stop to eat. Thankfully, his dad had already left so he didn’t have to deal with funny or worried looks.

The drive is hellish, every song on the radio pissing him off with their preppy beats and never-ending optimistic lyrics. Those motherfuckers. What do they know? He parks his car next to Scott’s bike, but he doesn’t leave for a while. He sits, foot tapping, fingers shaking until he hears a knock on the window. It’s Lydia. She smiles at him, but Stiles can only manage a flutter of his lips, leading to a slight crease in Lydia’s forehead.

He pushes himself out of the car, but it doesn’t feel like he’s really moving. It’s as if he’s left his brain in the car, or maybe it’s still at the hospital, still trying to figure all this shit out. Or maybe it’s nowhere. Which is exactly where Stiles wishes he could be.

“Hey, you alright? You don’t seem like yourself.” Lydia comments as they walk towards the front door of the school.

Stiles knows he’s being irrational, but he swears every other student is staring at him. Can they see something that he can’t? Is there a big pregnant sign hovering over his head? Is he already showing? He tries to subtly place a hand on his stomach, but it doesn’t feel any different from normal, just a little sensitive. The mini-panic he goes through stops him from truly listening to Lydia’s question, so he deals with her judgemental expression when he turns back to her.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Stiles asks in an effort to be polite.

Lydia rolls her eyes, evidently sick of this already. Stiles suspects she can only deal with a small fraction of Stiles weirdness at this time in the morning. She gives him another withering glance, then flounces off. Stiles loves her like a sister, but she is really quite the character and if he hadn’t known her since third grade, Stiles doesn’t know if he would have the strength to be part of her posse.

Now comes the hard part, facing Derek. Derek who will no doubt look perfect and beautiful, and Stiles will have to crush it. Maybe he shouldn’t do it first thing in the morning, but if he doesn’t do it as soon as possible, Stiles is afraid he’ll never tell him, just keep giving himself excuses. But now he’ll ruin Derek’s whole school day. He deserves one more day as a care-free seventeen-year-old, right? Fuck, why is all of this so complicated?

He trips on his way to his locker, messes up his locker combination twice and catches his thumb on the edge of the metal and the cut is deep enough that it begins to bleed. Fucking fantastic. Maybe this is it, maybe this is rock bottom. At least now there is nowhere to go but up?

But then Stiles catches a glimpse of Derek down the hall and knows he has no clue what rock bottom really feels like until he tells Derek his news.

He swiftly turns away, eyes pressed close together, hoping that the action will help him keep everything together, with your eyes closed nothing can get in and nothing can hurt you Stiles likes to tell himself. If only that little piece of positivity really worked.

Those two special hands do their routine, lift Stiles up and twirl him until he faces his mate. He plasters on a smile and kisses Derek eagerly. He wants to savour this, he needs to. What if this is the last time this happens? He doesn’t want to forget a single moment. Stiles looks deeply at Derek. The easy smile, those cute bunny teeth, the dark brows that hold no weight, the unlined forehead, each laughter line on his smooth skin. He’s so perfect.

“Hello, I missed you,” Derek says, pulling Stiles closer so the words are whispered into his hair.

“You saw me yesterday,” Stiles reminds him weakly, stumbling back a little until his head hits his locker.

Derek just shrugs. “Unfortunately, I’m a sappy idiot and I miss you all the time. Them’s the breaks, kid.” Derek finishes with a wink, entwining their fingers and dragging Stiles down the hall on the way towards their first period. Stiles catches Scott’s eye as he’s walking. He can only describe his best friend’s face as grim. That’s the only word able to capture the magnitude of displeasure on the beta’s face.

Once they arrive at Economics, Stiles debates if he should just blurt out the news now. _“Hey Derek, I’m having your kid. Surprise?_ Maybe not. _“Hey Derek, guess who’s going to be on the next episode of Teenage and Pregnant?_ Nope, not the best approach.

Besides, Coach Finstock comes in and starts ranting about public transport because apparently his car has broken down and he now has to take the bus to work, and for some reason, that spells the end of democracy. Stiles tunes out the speech and instead stares at Derek, whilst trying to make it not seem like staring. What does he do? What can he do? Derek turns every so often and gives him a warm smile. Stiles spins away before he has to reciprocate. He doesn’t see Derek’s face fall every time Stiles refuses to acknowledge his mate.

The day continues on like this, until Stiles is nearing explosion territory and Derek has reached his own limit on Stiles’ strange attitude, as have the rest of his friend group. Everyone is picking up on the distress and panic coming off him and it’s aggravating the inner wolves. Lunch is the last straw for them all, but most especially Derek, and as soon as he spots Stiles in the lunch line, he grabs the smaller boy and hauls him out the lunchroom without a backwards glance.

“Jesus Christ, Derek, get the fuck off me. That hurts,” Stiles demands when they stop in an empty hallway, yanking his arm back from the werewolf’s Superman grip. He casts his eyes over the red finger marks and thinks, _great, they’ll bruise._

“What the hell is going on with you today? You’ve been snapping at everyone all day. This isn’t like you,” Derek says, face laced with concern. His eyes are even flashing.

Stiles can’t contain it anymore, all his emotions overflow and he becomes a total, high school cliché by breaking down in his school hallway.

Derek is alarmed immediately, encircling his arms around his mate. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“Derek, I’m so sorry,” Stiles whispers. He takes a deep breath, inhaling his mate’s scent. “I’m pregnant.”

Stiles pulls back and can only watch as Derek’s face goes through a million different emotions; shock, horror, fear and confusion. He looks so lost.

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles says again, almost reaching for his mate, but refraining because, in all honesty, the way Derek is holding himself in this moment is eerie, and Stiles, for once, doesn’t know if Derek wants to be touched.

“Derek?” Stiles asks uncertainly. He needs to hear Derek’s voice, needs his words.

Eventually, he looks up from the ground, runs both hands over his face and through his hair, tugging painfully on the ends. He keeps Stiles in his gaze, completely still as the world goes by. “I don’t understand. We-we…we were careful. We took every precaution.”

“It wasn’t enough,” Stiles replies sadly.

Derek looks crestfallen. “Fuck, Stiles, I can’t do this. We can’t do this. Shit-I mean-what the fuck? I can’t-no, I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” Derek fumbles, shuffling backwards step by step until he finally rolls on his heel and hurries down the hall and out the front door. He leaves.

Stiles doesn’t blame him. He would leave too if he thought it would solve his problems. Unfortunately, his problem is kind of attached to him.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt though. Derek left, he actually left Stiles behind. It hurts. It hurts like nothing Stiles has ever experienced before. He wants to cry and yell and scream, but he can’t, so he doesn’t. He stands in the small alcove he’s been left in, sniffling and fighting back tears as the bell rings and he’s pushed to act normal, act like himself, when he’s never felt so abnormal in his life. It hurts. What is he going to do?

It’s not until a hand lands on his shoulder that Stiles looks up. It’s Scott, face open and kind, knowing exactly what Stiles needs before he needs it. He hugs his friend tightly, providing the comfort he’s desperate for. He buries his face in Scott’s neck, Scott doing the same, fingers tightening on each other’s backs.

“Scott, I’m afraid,” Stiles whispers into Scott’s shoulder.

“I know,” Scott replies quietly.

Stiles pulls back, not wanting to keep Scott any longer and encourage more detentions for them both. Scott bites his lip, like he’s trying to stop himself from blurting out all sorts of bright and shiny words of optimism. Stiles is thankful that he prevents himself. Maybe one day soon he could use those words of encouragement, but not now, not when has had to witness his mate walking away from him and still has to go home and face his father. Fuck his life. Fuck it all.

Scott walks with him to their next class. They don’t exchange words until they have to. Mr. Yukimura asks them all how their History assignments have been going, reminding them all that they are due in two weeks. Stiles inwardly groans. He had been working on it before the whole disaster that is the baby bomb, but he had forgotten about it recently. Crap. He looks to Scott pleadingly, who pulls out his notes and pushes them towards the omega. He mutters a thanks and boots up his laptop.

Working hard distracts him, discussing and debating with Scott keeps him going. Time passes by until he hears Mr. Yukimura calling to pack up just as the bell starts to ring. Both boys grab their stuff and exit the classroom.

There is minimal thinking as they make it back to their lockers, even as he passes Derek’s and catches a glimpse of Cora turning a corner. Maybe he should just slam his face into the wall. Repeatedly. But that small glance of Cora just serves to remind him that the Hales need to know. Oh God, what if Derek just went home and told his parents everything? What if he just screamed it out in the middle of town for all to hear? The entire situation freaks the fuck out of Stiles because he doesn’t know Derek right now. He doesn’t know this Derek and what this Derek will do.

As he picks up the last of the books that he needs to take home for studying, he spots Allison, Jackson and Isaac making their way towards them. Shit. He doesn’t want to deal with more than he can handle, and he definitely can’t handle these three right now.

Stiles stares at his best friend, trying to communicate with his eyes, begging Scott to deal with their friends. Scott nods, understanding and moving to gather their friends and push them in the opposite direction. Stiles quickly rushes to the door, regretfully having to ignore Isaac’s look of worry. As he walks out, Stiles notices some lacrosse players on their way to practise. He makes a mental note to tell Coach he needs to be benched for the foreseeable future. Can’t smash into guys on the lacrosse field with a baby bouncing in your belly, Stiles mocks himself.

He manages to get into Roscoe and drive away without any major disaster, but the straightforward action of driving his car only sends his mind spiralling off in another winding path of misery, because sometime soon he won’t be able to drive. He’ll have to adjust everything because of his situation.

His life will change completely. But does he have to go through it alone?

Stiles thinks about Derek. He wonders where he is. He has a million ideas of places Derek would go, but now he doesn’t know if Derek wants to be found. Or even if Stiles wants to find him. He left Stiles. He left him. The time Stiles needed Derek the most and he walked away. He can understand and he can rationalise this, but he also wants to punch Derek’s stupid, beautiful face.

The house is quiet when he gets home. He knows his dad won’t get back until about seven o’clock tonight, so he has time to finish his school work and figure out how to sit down in front of his dad and tell him he broke the unspoken rule and is now a baby daddy. This is going to go over really well.

For the next couple of hours he just sits at his desk and updates his notes, even beginning on an essay not due for a couple of weeks. He wants to control what he can control, which is why he emails Scott the framework for their presentation for History, meaning they only have to add the bigger pockets of information. Well, at least his grades won’t be slipping for now.

Finally, Stiles abandons his work, sick of staring at numerals that mean absolutely nothing to him, especially as the clock continues to tick and remind him of the upcoming revelations. Stiles preps some steaks, hoping it will sweeten his father enough to at least not throttle him.

Stiles is in the middle of tossing some salad when he hears his dad’s car pull up. Shit. His heart rate picks up as he places the bowl on the table and moves to greet his dad at the door.

“Hey dad, how was work?” he asks, full of false enthusiasm, leading his dad through into the kitchen. His dad grunts as a way of an answer, which doesn’t bode well for the forthcoming conversation because it seems as if his dad is in a bad mood. Stiles wonders if the universe exults in his pain. It must if it keeps sending this shit storm his way. But at the end of the day, he has no one to blame but himself. It was his idea. And now he’s paying the price.

His dad seems to cheer up a little bit when he spots the steaks on the table. It says something about his dad’s detective abilities, because he should know by now that Stiles uses steak and other types of red meat to prepare his dad for big news, to make his punishment less awful, to provide a fail-safe. But his dad is always so preoccupied with the possibility of eating what he really wants to eat for once, he forgets about the evidence of his son’s misdemeanours. Stiles doesn’t know if that will help him in this case though. This isn’t like the time he broke his bedroom window practising darts.

His dad finishes his steak, becoming gradually more talkative as he continued eating, and goes to grab another beer from the fridge. Stiles thinks it might be a good idea that he be a little tipsy when receiving his son’s news.

“So dad, I need to talk to you about something,” Stiles begins, tongue tumbling over every word.

His dad smiles at him. What if his dad never smiles at him again? “Sure, buddy, what’s up?”

The kindness in his father’s eyes makes Stiles’ heart break. “Dad, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I really fucked up,” he says, voice cracking. He tries to keep going but the words get overtaken by hiccupping sobs so loud he has to muffle them by clapping his hands over his mouth.

His dad doesn’t hesitate, just gathers Stiles in his arms and starts to rock him back and forth. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Just tell me what happened.”

Stiles turns to his father who is now crouched beside him while he sits in his chair. Looking down, breathing deeply, he utters those words, “Dad, I’m pregnant.”

Time seems to stop, or maybe it repeats, as Stiles has to watch the same process he went through with Derek, happen with his dad. The conflicting emotions wash over the Sheriff’s face so quickly that Stiles can barely perceive them. He doesn’t know what to expect, but what he certainly doesn’t anticipate is for his dad to pull him closer once again and hug him close to his chest. He collapses into his father’s arms, tears staining his dad’s uniform. They don’t move for a long time, just kneel on the kitchen floor, clinging to each other. He has no idea what his dad thinks, but he’s so grateful that he didn’t leave.

Stiles’ arms start to cramp so he removes himself from his dad’s arms. Falling back to rest on his calves, Stiles waits for his dad to say something. He waits, but nothing comes. It seems as if there are a million things his dad wants to say, but he can’t bring them out of his mouth.

Suddenly, he grips Stiles’ face tightly in his hands, kisses his son’s forehead then gets up. Stiles scrambles after him, hanging on his heels as they go up the stairs. Outside his dad’s bedroom door, he finally speaks, “Dad, please say something.”

Stiles’ dad gives him a sympathetic smile, resting a gentle hand on the omega’s shoulder. “I don’t know what to say, what you need to hear, because right now, I am almost as frightened as you are. So, I need some time to think about this, okay? I need to think.”

His dad must be able to sense his disappointment through his shoulder slumping, so he drags his son forward to hug him again. “I love you, son. No matter what.”

“I love you too, dad.”

That’s it, his dad goes into his bedroom, the door firmly shut, and Stiles has to withdraw to his own Fortress of Solitude. Wonderful. Brilliant. Great. At least he wasn’t cast out of the house.

Stiles drops onto his bed, hands pressing into eye sockets to the point of pain. He uses it as a method to control his crying. It always come back to the eternal question. What is he going to? There needs to be a choice about this life inside of him, but he can’t do it. He can’t do it without the Hales, he can’t do it without his dad, he can’t do it without his _mate_.

But his head is all over the place, and he can’t stop the spinning even if he tries with all his might. He’s never felt so alone in his life. His dad locked away in his room, Derek MIA, and the Hales, hopefully, still unbeknownst of the newest addition to their brood. The more he thinks, the worse it gets.

It’s like being smacked in the face every time you take a breath. It’s like being stabbed a thousand times over. It’s like having your heart ripped out of your body.

It’s like a panic attack that never ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. Don't blame Derek too much. He's just overwhelmed and needs some time to think. He'll be better. Promise!


	6. Live, Learn, Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here's the new chapter. I hope you enjoy it. This semester is really busy for me, but I'm going to do my best to keep writing regularly. I love this story and I am determined to finish. Thank you all for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: There are some very serious abortion talks, so if that makes you uncomfortable don't read.

Apparently, the universe decides that Stiles isn’t worthy of anything remotely good, because he wakes up with the worst headache ever and a stomach that needs immediate evacuation. Therefore, meaning that he has to dash for the bathroom within two seconds to prevent puke going all over the floor. Who puts in the rules that those carrying new life inside of them deserve to be punished by morning sickness, bloated feet and must swell up to the size of a planet? That is just not fair.

Sleeping had been good for making Stiles’ temporarily forget everything that had happened the previous day. But now they all come back and make him want to be swallowed by his bed. Thinking about Derek only makes his heart hurt so he makes an executive decision to not think about him anymore. He is banned from Stiles’ thought processes under further notice.

After the debacle of yesterday, Stiles had turned his phone off once he got back, so he reluctantly switches it back on. He finds messages from Scott, Lydia and Isaac. Isaac’s is careful but full of worry, asking why he was acting so strange yesterday. He texts back to say that classes are kicking his ass and he’s still not feeling the greatest. He hates lying to his friends, but after the reactions of both Derek and his own father, Stiles is more than hesitant to reveal anything from now on, even to someone as accepting as Isaac. After his mother died and being abandoned by his father, Isaac was thankfully taken in by incredible foster parents, but Stiles knows that Isaac’s past, while painful, gives him an open mind when it comes to any topic. Stiles wants to trust in that. But he bows to fear and lies, like he does to Lydia’s insistent, concerned pestering and Scott’s gentle prying. He lies and turns his phone off again.

Instead, he pulls himself out of bed again and goes downstairs to make breakfast, choosing pancakes in the hope that it will sweeten his dad to the situation properly. He’s just pouring the batter to make the first pancake when he hears the stairs creak, spinning on his heel to find his dad poking his head into the kitchen.

“Hey, kiddo. How you feeling?” his dad asks, stepping into the room and taking over pancake duty.

“More morning sickness,” Stiles admits begrudgingly. He sits down at the kitchen table a little awkwardly, the chair scrapping over the floor.

His dad nods, flipping over the pancake. “Right, right. Right.” His voice gets quieter with every word.

They don’t speak until a few pancakes are ready and they are both sat at the table. “So…” his dad begins. “How long have you known?”

Gulping, Stiles replies slowly, “Couple of days. I told Derek yesterday as well.”

“Okay, and how did he react?” The concern in his dad’s eyes is of an insurmountable amount.

“Not well,” Stiles puts it simply.

“Why? What did he do?” his father demands. The image of pitchforks and torches come to mind at the sound of his dad’s fiery voice.

Stiles can’t do this, he can’t hurt Derek like this. Destroying his relationship with the Sheriff when they have a bond like no other Stiles is seen? No matter how terrible Derek made him feel yesterday, he won’t condemn his mate because he has feelings that he is unable to deal with. Stiles won’t sacrifice him.

He tries his best to evade the question, or at least twist the truth a bit. “He just didn’t take it well. But it’s okay. He needs time, I get that. It’s okay.” A small crack appears in Stiles’ voice, so he bandages the fissure with a smile built by tears. “It’s okay.”

Stiles watches as his dad sort of deflates, the red cloud of anger dissipating steadily. He reaches out and takes his son’s hand. “Son, you can say it’s not okay. You don’t need to lie to me, and you especially don’t need to lie to yourself. This, and you, are not okay. And you are allowed to feel that away. Understand?”

Stiles nods. Absolutely sick to his stomach, he lets go and states the truth, “I’m not okay and I don’t know what to do.”

The Sheriff gathers his son in his arms and holds him close, chests pressed together. They sit there for a while, until they know they have let each other go. His dad wipes at his eyes when he pulls away, but Stiles doesn’t comment on it. He knows this has to be a disappointment for his dad, the man who always warned against any kind of intimacy until they were properly mated, because he knew this could happen, no matter what precautions you take. Stiles should have listened. At least he hadn’t been kicked out of the house in disgrace, as he knows some omegas have.

“Right, well, we need to talk about some things, and you don’t have to choose right this moment, but you know certain options have a time limit. So, I’m asking you if you think we need to research some of them.” Each sentence is laid out very carefully. His dad thinks he’s being kind tiptoeing around the actual word, but kindness won’t get Stiles anywhere but back to his pit of despair and misery. He needs a plan. Desperately.

“Dad, you can say the word, I can handle it,” Stiles reassures him, trying to sound as determined as possible.

“Alright, Stiles, do you think that abortion is an option for you?”

Stiles breathes deeply. Blinking once, twice, Stiles lets his mind pass over the idea, what it would actually be like to abort this life inside of him. He knows perfectly well it is a good option for some, and he applauds those omegas’ bravery, but glancing down to the fairly non-existent bump, he just doesn’t know if that is the right choice for him. Could he do it? Is he strong enough? Is that the right way? Stiles reminds himself that as a teenage omega with a mate who could currently be skipping town right now, that there is no right way. It’s a choice, and Stiles has to learn to live with whatever he chooses.

He thinks, and concludes simply, “I can’t decide without Derek.”

“I thought you said – ”

“I know what I said dad, but this baby isn’t just mine. This child is ours, and it’s not right to do anything without Derek here. I won’t make choices on this child’s life without Derek agreeing. I know he’s being a total douche-nozzle right now, but I also know he’s a good person and he deserves a say.”

For the first time in what seems like a century, his dad smiles, brightly and warmly. “I understand.” Stiles smiles back at his father. “Just remember you have a say too, this is your body and you can do what you like.”

His dad gets up to start cleaning the dishes, but Stiles, because he’s idiot or a dick or just like making himself suffer, asks his father a question that has been bothering him since he told about his news. “Dad, why aren’t you mad? Why aren’t yelling at me? Telling me that I’m stupid and I’ve made a huge mess, that I’ve ruined my life?”

“Oh, trust me, I am furious right now. I have so many words to say to you I don’t even know where to begin, and that anger is probably going to come out now and again, and you will get an earful, but you’re my son, and while I’m not happy about this, I’ll do whatever I can to help you through this. Get it?” Stiles nods.

“Thanks dad,” Stiles says, moving to help clear the table. Stiles thinks that this admission from his dad is exactly what he needed to start moving forward, without his dad’s help, Stiles doesn’t think he would be able to survive this.

“You can thank me by talking to Derek and starting to fix the crap you’ve got going on between the two of you,” his dad tells him with an arched brow.

While he knows it’s the right thing to do, it doesn’t stop Stiles’ heart from stuttering. He doesn’t trust his voice, so he twitches his head and helps his dad clean. After he’s done, the two Stilinski men decide to settle on the couch and watch the latest episode of _How to Get Away With Murder_. Annalise Keating is a total fucking badass.

A couple of hours later, after watching Annalise and her interns rush around on screen, scrambling for a way to save their asses from being thrown in jail once again, the doorbell rings. Stiles flicks his eyes to his dad, who is half passed out on the couch, the night shift obviously working him too hard, so he gets up to open the door.

“Hi.”

That’s the word that Derek chooses to greet him with.

“What do you want?” Stiles spits accusingly, crossing his arms and hoping his demeanour says tough and angry. He’s looking for a dark, brooding, goth punk living on the wrong side of the tracks that drives a motorcycle vibe. Glancing down at his shirt with the message _I’m not saying I’m Batman, I’m just saying that no one has ever seen me and Batman in the same room_ , emblazoned across the chest, Stiles doesn’t think he pulls it off quite to the right degree. Damn.

“Can we talk?” Derek asks, seeming incredibly shameful and apologetic, shoulders hunched over and eyes so wide you could fall into them. Damn, why does he look so good even when he’s been an asshole? That’s not right.

“I don’t know, we can, but I’m not sure if I can trust you to be there at the end of the talk. You tend to abandon me when things get tough.” Stiles knows he’s being harsh, but he feels entitled to a little meanness.

Derek looks wrecked, hurrying to blurt out, “God, Stiles, I’m so so sorry. Please forgive me. I will never do that again. It was stupid and childish and careless. You deserved better. I’m truly sorry. What can I do? Tell me. I’ll do anything. I swear –”

“Shut up, you giant prick!” Stiles near yells. Derek steps back, maybe slightly fearful of the ferocity of Stiles’ words. “I need you to be sorry, yes, I need to you to apologise, yes, I need to you to be better, yes, but what I don’t need is the self-deprecating bullshit. I already feel bad enough, I don’t need you making things worse by hating yourself too. What I need right now, what I think you do too, is to have a plan. We need to talk properly and work this whole thing out, including what’s going to happen with us.” Derek flinches at ‘us’, as if he’s waiting for Stiles say that he doesn’t want them to be together anymore. Stiles can’t give him any sort of comfort in that area. He’s just as uncertain.

Derek lets a huge breath, answering quietly, “Okay, let’s talk.” Stiles moves to turn back into the house, but Derek stops him. “Stiles, wait, can I – I know I really don’t have any right to ask anything of you right now, but I missed you more than anything, so can I – can I at least hug you? I just need to hold you.”

Stiles stares at his mate, so full of fear and hope. “Come here,” Stiles whispers, and that’s all it takes to get Derek to lurch towards him and squeeze the crap out of Stiles until he think their two bodies have fused to become one.

Grasping to Derek just as tight, he runs his fingers through the alpha’s hair, inhaling his mate’s indescribable scent. It’s healing, yet painful too. Stiles has no idea what their future is going to look like anymore, and he’s petrified that one wrong move could destroy everyone and everything he’s ever known.

Derek begins to let him go, but only when Stiles spins around does he realise it’s because the Sheriff is standing at the end of the hall watching the two of them. Stiles knows Derek’s scared face, his terrified face, but the look on his face right now as Stiles’ father stares him down is like no other type of terror Derek has ever emoted before. Stiles almost wants to laugh. He touches the wolf’s arm, encouraging him to step forward. He goes, if more than a little bit reluctantly.

They sit next to each other on the couch, Derek very nearly in his lap with how close he is, like he believes if he doesn’t stay as close as possible, he’ll never get to again. Stiles allows it, but doesn’t encourage it, especially not under his dad’s stern gaze. The television has been turned off, so the house stays in fixed silence, until the Sheriff blows out a heavy exhale and talks.

“So, I’ve talked to Stiles a little, and I think I’ve got an idea about his side, but how about you? How are you feeling about this?”

Derek jolts back, the vibration tingling up Stiles’ spine. It tells him all he needs to know about his mate’s thoughts. Frankly, he thinks Derek is surprised the Sheriff isn’t choking him out, or the two of them, for acting like idiots. Stiles wouldn’t blame him if he did.

“Um, I guess, uh… I’m confused? And scared?” Stiles catches the small flicker of Derek’s eyes over him. “And worried what this could do to us.”

“Those are all things I would be expecting you to feel right now, but I was talking to Stiles earlier, and as I’m sure you know, some of your options on what to do about this are time-conscious, so you and Stiles need to carefully think everything through. Alright?”

Derek nods, then his face twists as a new thought appears in his mind. “Wait, you’re not going to yell at us? Tell us to get rid of it or banish us from your sight?” Derek’s tone is incredulous.

“I think you might have been watching too many movies, kid. At least from my perspective, Stiles is still my son and I love him, no matter what stupid mistakes he makes, and the same applies to you. I can’t speak for everyone in the world, or your own parents Derek, but I don’t ever want you to think you have to go through this alone. I’ll always be on your side.”

Derek makes a small hiccupping-like sound, informing Stiles that he is an inch away from crying, which would be awful, because it would be the trigger that set Stiles off too. Stiles think he’s cried more than enough these past few days.

His dad shifts to sit on the couch with the two boys, patting Derek’s back. “Okay, I need to go to work, but I expect you too to speak about everything and at least have an idea of a plan when I get back. And Derek?” Derek looks up. “By the end of the day, you need to tell your parents.”

After no answer from the werewolf, Stiles promises, “We’ll talk to them tonight. Together.” Derek takes Stiles’ hand and clasps between his own, grateful beyond measure. Stiles knows first-hand how difficult it is to tell the parent, and with the way Derek has reacted to all of this, he probably needs the back-up in order to go through with this.

The two boys watch as Noah Stilinski gathers his stuff and leaves the house, giving them both one more pointed look before driving away. The house is once again immersed in silence. Deciding he doesn’t like it, Stiles gets up, dropping Derek’s hand to go and make some coffee. Derek follows him.

Holding up the pot to Derek, he gets a nod back. Once there are two cups ready and steaming, Stiles deposits them on the kitchen table. It’s then that Derek stops him from taking a mouthful.

Confused, Stiles asks, “And just what do you think you’re doing?”

Going slightly pink in the face, Derek replies, “My aunt was pregnant a few years ago, and I remember her complaining about not being allowed coffee because it was bad for the baby.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Stiles whispers venomously to himself. “This is going to ruin my life. You get that?” Derek shakes his head in agreement, knowing how much Stiles loves his coffee and how often he invents fanciful soliloquies to its magical powers during exam season.

“Can’t I just take a couple of sips?” Stiles complains, fingers unconsciously twitching towards the abandoned coffee mug.

Derek looks unsure, probably debating whether to think of the health of the baby or his relationship with Stiles at this current time. He settles on a very uncomfortable shrug. Stiles sighs, getting up to dump the coffee down the sink. It’s a very sad moment. He makes some herbal tea instead, which he has never been a very big fan of, but he wants something hot right now.

Derek waits until they’ve both drank enough of their drinks to bring up the topic. “So, I’m just going to ask you straight out. What do you want to do?”

Stiles quirks a brow at him. “Honestly? I have no fucking idea. This isn’t something I ever thought I would have to think about. It’s so surreal.”

“I know. It’s crazy. But when it comes to something like…” Derek stumbles over the next words. “…like abortion, I think you might have more say than I do. It’s your body and I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want to do,” Derek says.

Stiles feels his left hand drift to hover over his stomach, he snatches it back before it can make contact.

“Is that what you want? Do you think we should get an abortion?” Stiles asks warily.

Derek’s eyes pop. “What? No, no I – I, uh, no, wait, I mean, fuck, I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.”

“Wow, that was very helpful, thanks for that,” Stiles says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Derek gives him bitter look. “Shut up, I’m trying my best, dickhead.” Stiles concedes that it really seems like he is.

Then, head ready to explode, fingers passing over the big red button, Stiles says, “Derek, is there any chance that you could want this baby? Is there is a universe you can imagine, where we keep this baby? Has that ever been a possibility?”

Derek presses his hands to his face, breathes twice, and comes back to his mate. Stiles doesn’t know what answer he wants from Derek. “Stiles, I’m seventeen years old. I don’t know if I’m ready to be someone’s dad. And I don’t think you are either. A baby deserves better than that. And I think we do too.”

Stiles can’t describe the surge of emotions he feels right now, maybe there is happiness, maybe there is resignation, maybe there is disappointment. Maybe there is nothing.

“You’re right,” Stiles agrees quietly. “A baby deserves better, and we do too.”

Derek leans over to interlock their hands. “So, how about tomorrow we make an appointment with the doctor and we talk to them about…abortion, or even adoption, if you think you can’t handle an abortion.”

Stiles knows Derek is being sensible, but now that they’ve gotten the words out, everything seems much more real, it might truly be sinking in that there is a baby in his belly, and he has an obligation towards it, and he can’t shy away from that.

Stiles suggests that they go for a small nap, stating that his brain has now been drained of all energy. Derek doesn’t need any convincing. He shoots off a message to his mom saying that he’s bringing Stiles to dinner. Stiles hugs him after he does, noticing the pale pallor of the boy’s face.

Setting an alarm for six o’clock, Stiles shuffles and settles into his bed, waving Derek over when he awkwardly lingers in the middle of the room. He presses himself against all parts of Stiles’ body, arms holding the omega tightly as his head rests on Stiles’ chest. Soon after, soothed by each regular heartbeat, Derek is cast away into his dreams. Stiles is left to be tortured by his thoughts, and once asleep, his nightmares.

***

Stiles is worried that Derek may have been frozen. Maybe Mr. Freeze is hiding behind one of the trees. Nah, Arnie’s character wasn’t a real big fan of subtlety, he thinks, silently chuckling at the corniness of the acting. _“Let’s kick some ice!”_ What in the hell were they thinking?

Stiles thinks this situation might be making him go a little insane.

Bringing himself back to reality, he’s dumped in the Camaro with Derek clutching the steering wheel to the point there should be indentations of fingerprints on the black material. Neither of them has elected to start opening the doors or entering the house. Stiles just sits while Derek deals with the tidal wave of turmoil these past days have brought him and what pain might be waiting for him once they go inside.

“Are you sure you want me here?” Stiles asks for the thousandth time.

“Yes, I can’t do this without you,” responds Derek immediately. “I need you.” Stiles understands he’s not just talking about talking to the Hales.

“I need you too.” Whether it is meant to console or not, it’s the truth.

With that, Derek pushes open the car door and gets out. Stiles repeats the action. They cross the threshold of the house, and instantly Cora appears and ropes them into an argument she had been having with Laura on the phone about cream on pie. A week ago, Stiles would have had a million different words to say on the subject, would have created a PowerPoint, dived into the fight, but now, he can barely muster up the strength to contribute a few statements here and there. They have no idea. They have no clue. They don’t get it. But they will. And it could ruin everything.

Talia comes in to the kitchen, greeting each boy with a kiss to the head, asking them about their day. Derek just counteracts with questions about dinner. Talia gives him a strange look, maybe sensing the gloomy atmosphere surrounding the two boys, but complies and says dinner will be ready in a couple of minutes so they can go sit at the table if they like. They do, Cora still chattering away, to which Stiles tries his best to participate in to keep the normality going for as long as possible.

Setting a plate of pasta in front of everyone, Talia calls to Andrew who materialises instantly and sits down with his usual sunny grin on his face. Will Stiles ever see that again?

Three out of four Hale family members casually exchange conversation, while one sits back, stabbing pasta shells until they become mush. The only Stilinski manages a few pieces before he has to set down his fork to avoid puking.

At last, Talia can no longer ignore the two boy’s behaviour and souring scents, exclaiming, “Okay, what is going on with the two of you? You walked in here with your faces tripping you and you’ve barely said a single world between the two of you. What’s up?”

Six blinking eyes stare at the two mates, and they know it’s now or never, so grabbing each other’s hand, Derek speaks.

“Mom, dad, Cora, Stiles and I have something to tell you,” Derek begins, looking to Stiles who nods in encouragement. “I’m so sorry, but Stiles is pregnant.”

Cora’s fork clatters to the ground, while Andrew with shocked eyes, turns to his wife whose hands now cover her mouth. The dinner table falls into a stunned quiet. Sitting there for each beat of the clock, Stiles and Derek let the Hales absorb and process the news.

Andrew looks like he might want to say something, but Talia beats him, hissing in horror at her son, “How could you do this?”

Derek’s face falls, all hints of hope disintegrating.

“Mom –” Cora tries to say, but she is quickly overpowered.

“After everything we warned you about, every time we had the talk, you went ahead and betrayed me, your family, and for what? Where has this betrayal gotten you? You should be ashamed of yourself, Derek Hale. You have not only ruined yourself and your mate, but this entire family. You disgust me.” With that, Talia stands up and storms out the room.

Heart thumping erratically, Stiles is forced to observe Derek beg with wet eyes to his father, desperate for sympathy, desperate for acceptance. His dad relents and looks to his son. “I don’t even know what to say.”

A tear falls down Derek’s face. Stiles knows that wasn’t the answer he was looking for from his father. It wasn’t the answer Stiles was hoping for either. He can’t believe this is happening. He’s Derek’s family. The Hale’s are practically Stiles’ family, and they are going to behave like this during some of the worst times of their son’s life? Stiles is baffled and hurt and scared.

“Dad, please, I need you right now. Don’t – just don’t…” Softening, Andrew Hale gets up to stand over his son, running a gentle hand over Derek’s hair. Derek leans into the touch, as if it’s the last time he’ll experience it.

“You need to go, okay? Don’t come back for a little while, just until your mother has calmed down. And then we can talk about this again. Okay?” Andrew’s voice hitches at the end of every word. Stiles has never seen him like this before. The news is shocking, leaving Stiles the most disappointed he has ever been in his life. How could he say that? How could he say that to his son?

“Dad – ” Derek tries to speak more, but his dad just shakes his head.

“Not right now. We just need some time, so give us some space. But Derek – ” Derek looks down to where his dad is now crouching beside him. “You’re my boy, alright? Nothing is going to change that. We love you. Your mother loves you. Don’t forget that.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, either because he physically can’t or just won’t.

Derek’s father leaves, following the imprinted path of Talia, whether or not in the same mindset is debateable. Cora, who had stayed silent the entire time the exchange between Andrew and Derek had occurred, comes around the table to envelop them both in a large hug. It’s the best thing Stiles has felt all day.

“I love you guys,” she says, face smashed into Derek’s chest.

Stiles has to use whatever power he possesses to drag his mate out of the house, Cora trailing after them to watch them drive away. She promises to bring some of Derek’s clothes to them tomorrow. Stiles thanks her. He also wishes he had a sister like her.

Derek stays stoically silent, as they walk away, as they get in the car, as they start to drive. Stiles’ mind is fried, singed straight to the edges, he is so upset and angry and panicked, so he can’t even imagine how Derek is doing right now. Stiles is surprised that he hasn’t just unspooled right in front of him. That’s what Stiles is right now. A tight ball of string waiting to be unspooled, piece by piece.

Stiles makes a decision.

Instead of driving home, Stiles turns left back towards the preserve, heading to the Look-Out, a high point set on a cliff that overlooks Beacon Hills.

Derek, who hadn’t made the smallest noise, turns to him, tear tracks tainting his beautiful marbled face. “What are you doing?” he snuffles, wiping at his nose.

Stiles responds firmly, “I’m saying fuck it.” He doesn’t react to Derek’s bewildered expression, merely continues to drive until they reach their destination, the lights of their hometown casting an uneven glow over the trees.

He slams the car door shut when he gets out and goes to stand at the edge of the cliff, eyes swallowing the scene before him. Stiles senses Derek approach him uncertainly from behind. Only when they stand together does Stiles suggest his idea.

“Say fuck it,” Stiles orders Derek.

Brows crossing, Derek asks, “Why?” in return.

“Because that’s what we’re doing. We’re saying fuck it to everything and everyone who is going to reject us and hurt us and abuse us for what we’ve done. But we don’t have to care. Fuck those people. Like they’ve never made a mistake before and had to deal with the consequences? No, fuck them all. We are good people and we should have good things, so we won’t be controlled by other people’s opinions. Alright?” Stiles finishes his speech with a stern point of his finger at his mate.

Looking more and more assured, Derek complexion starts to perk up a little. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re right. Fuck it and fuck them too.”

“Hell yeah. We’re saying fuck it and fuck you!” Stiles grins.

“Fuck you!” Derek shouts out to Beacon Hills.

“Fuck you!” Stiles yells, getting louder and louder every time.

Derek is smiling now. “Fuck you all, you fuckers!” 

Soon enough, they are both just screaming out incomprehensible nonsense, creating noise in a place built on silence. They scream and scream until their voices are hoarse, but they still laugh. They laugh because nothing is okay and nothing probably ever will be okay again, but they’ll survive and they'll find a new okay.

They will survive this.


	7. Decisions, Dreams, Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am so sorry this took so long, but university has been really busy and difficult at the moment, so I hope you'll forgive me. 
> 
> Full disclosure, this chapter discusses abortion quite explicitly, so do not read if you think may trigger you. Additionally, while I may have researched some aspects of abortion, I am in no means an expert. I do not know how the process the works and I do not mean to offend anyone in my way of portraying it. Abortion is a completely valid option and I am extremely proud of anyone who has the strength to make that choice. However, even though I have taken certain artistic licences, I hope the scene still reflects some of the difficulties of abortion. Furthermore, there is a panic attack in this chapter so do not read if this could hurt you in any manner. 
> 
> Thank you all for your support and kudos and comments! You are all awesome! Hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

Things aren’t great. At least, not right now.

Then again, Stiles honestly believes you would find it difficult to meet someone that believed everything to be great all of the time.

The simplest of run-downs is this: Derek and his parents haven’t spoken for five days. The Sheriff keeps dipping into his liquor cabinet, thinking himself to be subtle enough that his son won’t notice, which is frankly very naïve of him at this point. Their friends are caught in limbo, Scott always sitting with a pained look on his face when he’s with them by being forced to keep a secret from his mate and the rest of their friends. Especially now that Stiles is really developing, his friends have been giving him weird looks because his scent has started to change. And Derek. Derek, who is trying so hard to be supportive, looks positively miserable whenever he believes there isn’t a spotlight on him. Stiles doesn’t think he has smiled properly since that night on the cliff. There isn’t much to smile about in all honesty, so Stiles doesn’t blame him.

But hey, his morning sickness seems to have lessened a bit. That’s good. It may not seem like a lot, but excuses at school for why he has to puke so often will only go far. He even talked to Coach a couple of days ago about quitting the team, and boy, was that fun. Stiles’ ears are still ringing. Ever need lessons on colourful articulations of obscure swear words, then the Coach is your man.

But the choice did confuse everyone, even Jackson let his mask slip to ask if something was wrong. Stiles lied. He lied, like he’s been lying for weeks. He’s a lying liar who lies. It hurts that now lying doesn’t even seem to faze him. It’s as easy as breathing.

And to top it all off, Derek and Stiles have an appointment today with the doctor whom will work through their plan with them. Stiles doesn’t know if they’ve made the right choice, but he is more than aware that there is no right choice here. He and Derek have stayed up for entire nights just talking this through. They talked to Stiles’ dad. They spoke to Melissa as well. They wanted to know everyone’s position before they went for it, but they knew the ultimate decision rested with them.

Even though he thought they were doing what was best for everyone, sometimes, in the height of darkness, Derek dead to the world on the floor next to him, Stiles lifted his shirt and rested his hand over his small bump and imagined he could feel the tiny thing’s heartbeat through the skin, so oblivious, so innocent. So alone in the world. He could see them, little feet, little hands, everything so small and so unprotected. It’s there and it’s real, and it’s fucking terrifying.

He wakes up the morning of the appointment colder than ever before. It’s not like Beacon Hills ever gets really cold, and today, the day seems to be a perfect one, sunlight piercing the breaks in the curtains of his bedroom to fall upon the two bodies inside warmly, but nothing feels good, not the weather, not his body, not him. He tries to wave away his concerns and goes to nudge a sleeping Derek with his foot. When he and Derek had returned home after the dinner with the Hales, his dad had taken one look at the pair and pulled them in for a hug. But that didn’t mean he was going to let them share a bed, after everything, but some begging later, he let them sleep in the same room for ‘comfort purposes only’, but any shenanigans and Derek would be in the spare room.

Derek jumps up immediately. He’s been sleeping really lightly lately, the slightest squeak and he is up and about in two seconds. “What? What’s happening? You okay?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Yes, dumbass. It’s just time for school.” Normally, Stiles would have three alarms set because he loves to sleep in, but nowadays he is own personal alarm clock due to his fucked-up sleep-cycle. So, yeah, pregnancy is great.

They get ready quickly and without exchanging too many words. It’s funny comparing how they are now to only a few weeks ago. There used to be such an ease to everything, every problem could be solved with a snap of fingers, even if it seemed like the biggest problem the universe could devise. Ignorance truly is bliss.

His dad is sitting at the table when the two boys come downstairs, munching on some low-calorie cereal, much to his own chagrin. _Just try and fight me on this, daddy-o_ Stiles thinks to himself with a wide grin.

Derek goes for some bread to make toast, whilst Stiles picks up an apple, not all that hungry. His appetite likes to come and go, but today of all days, his stomach seems to have shrunken to the size of a pea. He is more than fine with that, secretly afraid of throwing up all over the doctor’s office.

“How you boys feeling?” the Sheriff asks carefully. Acting natural in the face of the most unnatural thing isn’t really working out for his dad right now.

Stiles looks to Derek, who is already staring back at his mate. Stiles knows from Derek’s eyes that he can’t muster the strength to speak about this right now, so Stiles resolves to save him. “We’re nervous, obviously. But other that, I don’t really know how to describe how I’m feeling. Kind of at a loss for words. First time for everything, huh?” Stiles light-heartedly jokes at the end, hoping to inject some happiness into the conversation. It fails. Miserably.

At least the Sheriff manages a faint smile, for Derek it is just a twitch. Stiles soothes himself by telling himself that tomorrow everything will be different, not back to the way things were, but a semblance of normality should be regained. That’s the hope anyway.

“Okay, well, but are you sure you don’t want me there? I can take today off, meet you after school?” his dad suggests after taking a sip from his coffee. God, Stiles misses coffee.

“No, it’s fine. I have Derek.” Derek takes Stiles’ hand under the table, grip sure and unyielding. “We’ll be okay by ourselves.”

His dad surrenders. “Alright but call me as soon as you can. You don’t have to tell me anything or even say anything, just call me.”

Slightly misty-eyed, Stiles agrees, then pushes himself to his feet. “Come on then, moon of my life, we’d better go or we’ll be late. I am not getting detention from Harris today.”

There is a hint of bemusement in Derek’s eyes. It’s the best thing in the world. “If that makes me Daenerys Targaryen then I’m more than satisfied. She’s awesome.”

“Yeah, and you’d look hot with long blonde hair,” Stiles concurs, quite obviously sizing his mate up and down with hungry eyes.

“Darling, I look hot in anything,” Derek teases with a flick of his imaginary hair. Stiles laughs brightly, happy beyond measure when Derek joins in. It’s so good. No, it’s not good, it’s just _better_.

Stiles passes a look over to his dad, who seems just as relieved that Derek can still joke around as Stiles is. They try to leave without too much fanfare, but his dad still insists on hugging the two of them firmly before they are allowed to go. Stiles won’t admit that it truly does make him feel better.

They drive to school in Stiles’ Jeep, just the beats of the new pop track on the radio to fill the silence. It’s not a bad quiet, it’s a quiet of thought, when words can’t really apply to anything the mind thinks of.

When they pull up, Derek turns to Stiles, smiling softly, “We can do this.”

Stiles can’t resist pulling his mate in for a sweet but claiming kiss. Derek looks a little dazed after which leaves Stiles’ inner self doing a little happy dance in his stomach. Stiles hopes that feeling never goes away. They walk hand in hand into school, and are immediately accosted by Erica, whom in the midst of a fight with Boyd, demands pledges of loyalty from them both. Now, if one has never faced Erica Reyes during one of these moments, then one has never known true fear. Give Stiles an army of the dead or a malevolent spirit any day over the wrath of this beta.

Stiles cautiously agrees to act as dickish as possible to Boyd, with no intent to follow through unless Erica is present, and Derek just grunts, making it clear he’s not going to go against one of his best friends for the sake of some stupid fight. It’s not like it won’t all be forgotten in a week anyway. Erica is vaguely mollified, and drags Derek off English, barely giving any time for Derek to kiss Stiles goodbye. Stiles just shakes his head at them before sliding down the hallway to get to Chemistry.

Thankfully, Harris isn’t so much of an ass during the class, just giving him a few dirty looks here and there. Stiles just ignores him. He doesn’t give a fuck about this prick anymore.

After collecting his Chemistry homework and striding out of the class, Stiles bumps into Lydia on her way to AP Math. He quickly falls into step with her.

Lydia is remarkably quiet whilst walking. Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if she had guessed everything, if she knew all that had transpired over the past couple of weeks. She is that kind of person, but she hasn’t commented on it yet, so Stiles waits on the edge of his seat for her first words.

Whilst working on a set of statistics problems given by Miss Matthew, Lydia leans over and finally voices her thoughts, “I know, okay? I guessed that you had guessed it. The others have suspicions, but I swear I won’t tell them a thing. It’s up to you.”

Stiles nods gratefully, unsure of how to reply but he tries his best, “Um, thanks. I won’t insult you by asking you how you know,” Lydia chuckles softly. “Derek and I…are doing our best. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow okay? Things will be different tomorrow.”

Lydia smiles at him, unburdened and uninhibited. Stiles will be able to smile like that again soon.

“So, anyway, question three, I got minus thirty-five. What did you get?” Stiles asks, acting as normal as possible.

“What the fuck? How did you get that?” Lydia demands incredulously, “I got three-hundred and four point five! Do it again!”

Stiles tries his best to keep his laughter hidden, and redoes the problem, quickly realising how little he had paid attention to what the question was asking by getting the same answer as Lydia in the end. She looks extremely smug as Stiles notes down the numbers. Stiles wants to point out how many times Lydia has needed help with probability questions because she finds them so boring, she never actually paid enough attention to find out the method to solve them, but that would quickly lead to a debate about their mathematical prowess in certain areas of the subject. And while Stiles knows he’s smart, when it comes to math, Lydia is the undeniable queen. Just don’t tell Lydia that.

Stiles manages to finish the rest of the questions without too many disasters, just a touch of forgetting the minus sign sometimes, but he swiftly scratches them in and gets the right answer before Lydia can comment. 

Derek is waiting for him when class finishes, but before Derek can claim him, Lydia pulls him to her and kisses his cheek. “Only do it if it feels right,” she tells him. Stiles blinks at her slowly, watching as she disappears down the hall.

“Did she just…?” Derek wonders aloud.

Stiles half shrugs, half scoffs. “Dude, don’t even try to understand.”

Derek just shakes his head and takes Stiles’ hand to lead him down the school to his next class. Stiles leans into the alpha, enjoying the warmth he exudes. As they walk, Stiles glances at the very spot when he told Derek the news and it makes him think how different or similar things could have been if Derek hadn’t abandoned him there, if Derek hadn’t turned up that night, if Stiles had done this all alone. Its not worth thinking about.

The rest of the day progresses much as an ordinary day would, but at one point, Scott does pull him aside. Derek isn’t pleased leaving him alone, so he lingers not-so-subtly at his locker. Scott doesn’t seem to care.

“Hey dude, how’s it going, really?” Scott asks, eyes full of concern. Goddamn, everyone should have a Scott McCall in their life.

“Yeah, man, I think it will be okay. Things are better than they were, promise. But I don’t want to say anything else until later. Can we meet tomorrow and really talk?” Scott agrees emphatically.

Feeling as if he had pretty much appeased most of their friend group, swearing at lunch he would tell them all what was happening soon, Stiles’ mood is drastically better than it was at the start of the day.

However, as soon as he climbs into the Jeep, Derek in the passenger side, his stomach drops. He can’t put it off any longer. There are no sleeping distractions, there are no school distractions or friend distractions, he’s forced to put the car into drive and move off in the direction of the hospital all in the name of beginning the plan to get rid of the baby inside of him. That’s it. He’s getting rid of this baby. Losing it. Destroying it. Making sure it goes away. He knew, or knows, it’s the best possible outcome for their lives. They are two teenage fuck-ups, and whilst they have a majority of compassionate family members and friends, it doesn’t equal a parents of the year award. They had discussed everything for a long time and felt comfortable with their choice, but Stiles looks down at his stomach and he is more afraid than he was when he found out about the baby. Stiles created this thing and now they are just going to stop exiting? Stiles can barely wrap his brain around it. Stiles can _see_ them, like every baby he has glanced at in his life just becomes the one in his belly, all their tiny faces and big eyes and soft smiles, and it fucking breaks him.

Distantly Stiles hears Derek call his name, but Stiles can’t focus on it, just swerves the car so he can park it by the road and open the door. He stumbles out, landing rather painfully on his hands and knees, gasping for one full breath. Derek is by his side instantly, resting a hand on his back and rubbing smooth circles in an effort to pull Stiles’ attention away from his messed-up breathing. He really tries his best, tuning out the world to think only of the patterns on his back, but he just can’t. Everything feels awful, like his insides are devouring themselves. Derek realises his method isn’t working as it usually does, so he pulls Stiles into his arms, holding as tightly as he dares.

“Hey, hey, you’re gonna be okay, just breathe, please breathe with me,” Derek begs him, fingers digging into his mate’s skin, probably not even consciously registering that one of his hands is laying on Stiles’ stomach. Stiles doesn’t know what to make of it, but its that action that gets him breathing again. Why is it that? God, why did it have to be that?

Stiles relaxes back into his mate, letting out a huge exhale, feeling Derek do the exact same thing. Derek gently turns Stiles’ face to his to press a simple kiss on his brow. “Better now?” Stiles nods gratefully, all ready with apologies on his lips, but one stern look from the alpha shuts him up. “What happened?”

Stiles knows this must be uncomfortable sitting on the gravel by the road, but Derek looks completely unfazed, all his attention on Stiles. “I can see it, Derek. I can see the baby. And I hate it. I hate it,” Stiles admits, visibly getting more and more frustrated, hands reaching to pull his hair.

“Stop.” Derek pulls the omega’s hands away to engulf them in his. “I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you. I only know my side and it’s fucking horrific. And I can’t even talk to my own mom about it. And I know we talked about this and we made a choice, but if you’re feeling any doubt, then we can go home.”

Stiles stares at him, upset swirling in his stomach. It’s not fair that Stiles has his father in his corner and Derek only has his sisters. Cora had called Laura as soon as the news was told to the Hales, and whilst she was desperate to come back, her degree was keeping her on a tight leash, so she kept updated by video calling Derek all the time. Thankfully, she is much like Cora, and even though she had screamed and yelled that they had both been complete idiots, she had also cursed out her parents and refused to speak to them until they came crawling back on their knees and apologised to Derek. Stiles fucking loves her. They had had their own private chat only a few days ago and it made him feel better immensely in the moment.

_“Don’t let anyone bully you, okay? Not your dad, not Derek. It’s your body, you make the decision.”_

But Stiles doesn’t feel bullied. In all honesty, if anyone is bullying Stiles, it’s himself.

Reflecting carefully, Stiles starts to get up, helping draw Derek to his feet. His mate is worried, anxiety written in bold lettering across his face. “So, um, what’re you thinking?”

“I love you,” Stiles answers, making Derek smile, “and I think we should go. We need to know.”

“I love you too, and your rhyming skills are on point,” Derek tells him, encouraging a burst of laughter from the omega. They share a quick kiss, as sweet as their first. He believes in his reply, and while doubt will always play a part, Stiles has to go forward with this.

Derek elects to continue the drive, and Stiles has no complaints. He wonders if he has slightly scarred his mate after his attack. Stiles wouldn’t want to enter a car with someone like him. Derek, on the other hand, seems completely unbothered, plugging the keys back in and shifting the car into drive. Thankfully, Derek experiences no troubles and the journey goes perfectly fine until they are sitting in the hospital car park, looking up at the ominous building in front of them.

“So, we’re a little late. Do you want to go in?” Derek carefully asks.

“You can, if you like. I think I might stay out for a while. Need a couple of minutes,” Stiles says.

“Okay, but I’m not going anywhere. We go in together.” Derek leaves no room for argument and Stiles has no complaints. They wait there for another ten minutes until Stiles can finally leave the car. The hospital is just like any other regular hospital, just people desiring to save the lives of others, but it’s also the places where Stiles had to say goodbye to his mother. It’s a place he’s forced to associate with her death. Stiles wonders what she would think of his situation. Would she be ashamed of him? Would she hate him? Would she support him? Stiles can’t imagine her rejecting him, so he likes to think she would respond in the same way as his dad, maybe disappointed but always there. Then again, he didn’t imagine the Hales would hurt Derek in that way either, so maybe there is no way to accurately predict human behaviour. People do what they want.

Stiles turns to Derek, cups his smooth face in his hands and speaks clearly, “Whatever happens, nothing will change how I feel about you. This is forever for me.”

“This is forever for me too,” Derek repeats to him, eyes earnest.

Cautious smiles, cautious optimism, they let go of each other and leave the car. Melissa is waiting for the two of them in the reception area. She’s finished her shift for the day, but she wanted to hang around despite Stiles and Derek insisting she didn’t have to. When they spoke, Stiles was very honest and told her as nicely as possible that he doesn’t want her in the room with them because having her there would certainly make him more emotional than he already is. She agreed easily and simply said she’ll just hang around and make herself discreet when they come out, it’s just so they know she’s there if they need her. Stiles is hopeful, but that doesn’t mean he’s unaware about how many consequences this will have for himself and his body. Or for Derek. This will stay in their minds no matter how many years go by, and even if it begins to hurt less as time goes on, it will remain there.

Melissa is gentle in all aspects of her demeanour. “Hey boys, how’s your day been?” It’s a trouble-free question, and Stiles very happy she didn’t ask _How are you?_ or _Are you ready?_ because they might have encouraged him to turn around and never return.

Nervously wringing his hands together, he answers, “It’s been okay. Regular.”

Derek shrugs, eyebrows crossing as he is bombarded with a thousand medical scents, his abilities as an alpha making these smells a thousand times more intense. It’s not the most pleasant smell Stiles concurs and not only because of the memories that it insights in Stiles.

Melissa brings them over to the desk and they sign in, sitting nervously in the cold chairs until Stiles’ name is called. Melissa squeezes the omega’s hand quickly before they get up and follow the nurse down the hallway. The nurse kindly ushers them into a room where a doctor, that Melissa highly recommended, is awaiting them.

Her name is Doctor Lamant and whilst presenting a generally neutral front, Stiles can sense the compassion lying underneath. “Hello there. Please take a seat.” She gestures to the two seats next to her desk. Derek can obviously feel the fear Stiles is exuding, so he pulls him and the chair he sits on closer. Doctor Lamant seems completely unperturbed, probably having seen this many times before.

“So, I want to be very plain with the two of you as I believe it is the best method for couples in your situation. You are here today to confirm the termination of your pregnancy. Is that correct?” she says, so calm even when the air seems to have been sucked out of the room.

“That’s correct,” Derek replies. She looks to Stiles who says the same thing. She is satisfied with their response.

“Alright. And you have both taken the appropriate steps when considering this issue? You have spoken to each other, your friends and your family?” They nod. “Good, and you both have adequate support systems at home?” Exchanging a glance, they say yes. “Then, I want to ask you both a question and I want separate answers from the two of you.” A drop of sweat slides down Stiles’ back. “Are you absolutely sure about your choice?”

Derek blinks, holding his eyes closed for longer than he should. Stiles stares at his hands, watching as a vein twitches intermittently. Before either can reply, a knock breaks the glass silence.

The nurse from before pokes her head round the door, apologising rather profusely for interrupting before informing them that a Mr. and Mrs. Hale are in the reception demanding to see them.

Doctor Lamant catches their shocked eyes. “Alright, boys, please listen and understand this, you love your parents and they love you, but this decision is yours. You may take time to speak to them, but the question I just asked you, I know both of you already had an answer, do not forget it if you choose to speak to your parents.”

Derek just looks dumbfounded. Stiles already knows that they have to see them, but it’s if they should do it before or after this talk. But the next time their eyes meet, Derek looks determined. He states, “Tell them to stay in the reception. We’ll see them after. This is our lives, not theirs.”

Stiles is so proud of his mate in this moment, it’s hard not just to jump him there and then, but he refrains. It could be a step too far for Doctor Lamant. But the happy moment dissipates swiftly as the door is shut, as if the previous atmosphere of uncertainty has been reinstated, bringing the mood back down.

“Derek, Stiles, do you have an answer? Are you sure about your decision? Think in the terms that if we go ahead with this, then I have an opening tomorrow morning where we would take you into a private room and perform the procedure to terminate the pregnancy. That is the process at its core. Is that what you want?”

Hearing it all laid out in front of him begins to cement the idea in Stiles’ mind. These will be the scariest words Stiles will ever speak, because despite everything, despite all the faith he has placed in Derek and his assurances, it could shatter everything.

Stiles twists to Derek, entwining their fingers. Shakily, he says, “Derek, I can’t go through with this.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Stiles questions.

“Yes, if you’re not sure, we are not doing this. I never want to make you do something you’re unsure about.” Stiles lets out a huge breath.

Then it occurs to him, so he rushes to say, “I’m not saying we keep the baby, but I don’t think I can go through with this. That’s all I’m thinking. I haven’t made any other choice.”

“That’s fine. We can work with this. I promise.” Derek moves forward to lean his forehead on Stiles’. They sit there for a few minutes, breathing unevenly. Doctor Lamant doesn’t intrude, just smiles at them when they turn back to her.

“As long as the two of you are truly comfortable with your choice, then we have nothing more to discuss. Of course, do not hesitate to call and ask any follow-up questions or book another appointment. It was nice to meet the two of you.” She stands and shakes both of their hands.

Once they leave the room, Stiles falls into Derek’s waiting arms. Derek whispers into his ear, hot breath rustling his hair, “Absolutely sure about this?” Stiles just moves his head up and down, unequivocally sure. He knows now whilst it is the right choice for some, he couldn’t do it, no matter how many arguments he had for why he should, he simply couldn’t. But Derek and his scent surrounding him is the best support he could have right now.

“Guess we better face the music, huh?” Derek continues to whisper after a small break of silence. Stiles has no clue what he is going to say to Talia or Andrew, and he’s sure Derek is in the same position.

They walk slowly, clutching each other as they reach the reception again. They spy the Hales immediately, whom jump up and move towards Derek and Stiles as soon as they are glimpsed. When they reach the two boys, both parties stand in front of each other waiting for the other to make the first move. It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic.

Talia takes the first leap. “Derek, Stiles, how have you been?”

“You would know if you hadn’t cast me out of the house,” Derek snaps back. Even though Stiles is trying to be a good mate by acting as stoic and infallible as possible, he desperately wants to laugh out loud. He fucking loves this man.

Talia looks scandalised and Andrew’s face is just pure guilt. Stiles thinks they absolutely deserve it. “Derek, we’ve done a lot of thinking and talked a lot, and we want you to come home. We are so sorry for everything we have put you through, but we were shocked and overwhelmed. We never imagined something like this would happen,” Andrew tries rather unsuccessfully to explain.

“And you think I did? You think I wanted this? Are you insane? Guess what? Even if you didn’t expect it, that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit. I made a mistake and as my parents, you should be willing to help me, not throw me away. If you’re hoping for forgiveness right now then you won’t find any,” Derek angrily spits, nearly shouting. He grabs Stiles’ hand and pushes past his parents to get to the door. On the inside, Stiles is punching his fist in the air. He is so proud of Derek. While he wants them to make up more than anything, Stiles definitely thinks the Hales deserve to have their asses handed to them. At least for a little bit. Let them sweat.

Before Derek can slam into the car and speed off, Stiles pulls him to kiss him firmly. “I’m proud of you.”

Derek softens instantly. “I’m proud of you. Thank you for being honest about how you were feeling.”

“Let’s go home,” Stiles says, the exhaustion of the day really hitting him. They get in Roscoe and drive back to the Stilinski house in relative quiet. Stiles doesn’t know how to think anymore. This is more than the brain is capable of processing. He can’t wait to fall asleep and leave this day behind.

They pull up and enter the house, collapsing on Stiles’ bed and trying to force their brains to stop working. But before Stiles can sleep, he calls his dad.

The Sheriff picks up after one ring. “Hey,” he says quietly.

“Hello,” Stiles replies, flipping onto his back and snuggling closer to Derek, face huddled into the alpha’s chest. “I’m okay.”

“Good. Is there anything you want to tell me?” Stiles hears shuffling in the background, his dad evidently moving into a more comfortable position in his desk chair.

“Maybe. But only when you come home. Don’t think I want to talk about it right now. Just going to go to sleep.”

His dad hums in acknowledgment. “Alright. Derek is there with you?”

“Yeah, nearly asleep right next to me,” Stiles tells his dad, feeling Derek run a hand through his hair.

“I’ll be home in a few hours. We can talk then if you want. If not, don’t worry, I’m bringing home pizza,” his dad jokes.

“Only if there are vegetables on it,” Stiles warns him. His dad laughs, then after a few more minutes of talking, they hang up. Stiles throws his phone to the bottom of the bed and goes to drape more of his body over Derek, loving that Derek has been through this enough times to just assume the position.

It doesn’t take long. Derek falls first, heartbeat settling into a relaxed rhythm, and after another one hundred heartbeats, Stiles is swallowed by slumber. He dreams of small feet and wide smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Your reads, kudos and comments make me smile! <3


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